Don't Kiss!
by BettyBubble
Summary: Caryl AU: Seven years ago, Carol had a chance to start over, but she was still locked in her fears and it was more surviving than actual living. When her best friend Michonne made an odd suggestion, Carol never thought she could do something like this. Maybe for the first time in her life she would do something for herself. She would pay a man for sex...
1. Chapter 1 - The Odd Idea

"That´s why you quit with Tobin?" Michonne asked.

This subject was a little bit like the elephant in the room … again. But Carol had to talk about it with Michonne because after all, who else could she talk with about something like that?

Carol swallowed "You know … I … can't … I just … I tried, but I felt so … pressured. He expected it, and that's why I was afraid. That´s why I'm always afraid"

"But you _do_ want it, don´t you? I don't think he was the right one, I knew it, felt it"

Michonne, sitting next to Carol in the little café where they sometimes met after work, raised her brows. Carol smiled insecurely and let her hands run over the red fabric on the chair. Here they were again, Carol and her complicated relationships with men, still a delicate matter. She wanted someone, and she wanted physical closeness, but she was too afraid.

After her marriage with Ed, she wanted to feel something, finally feel something, but she was her own worst enemy. She dated men - sometimes she even liked them - and she wanted to move forward, but their desire scared her. Even if she really needed to have a good experience with physical intimacy, and even if they were as patient and gentle as possible, she couldn't get past her fears.

Tobin spent seven months getting close to Carol, step by step, but it wasn´t enough. He knew how broken she was and he took it really slow. So slow, the guilty conscience in Carol grew with every minute she spent with him. After dinners in restaurants and dinners at her place and his place, after several evenings on the sofa or at the movie theatre, after many walks in the park and parties with her friends and his friends, they finally shared their first kiss when he brought her home after his birthday.

Some weeks later, they progressed to the next step. She wanted to try; she really did. She thought she was ready, but Carol was trembling when Tobin's hands moved from her shoulders and explored further down. She said "stop!" and he did so.

She'd learned to say stop in the meetings with her therapist. She learned her personal boundaries - both emotional and physical - and Tobin wasn't able to cross both of them. Carol slowly resigned herself to accept her situation. What else could she do? She couldn't force something she wasn't ready to accept. Probably the anxiety of physical contact would have grown with every attempt and they would have never come far enough. The more she tried, the more scared she became, and the more she disappointed him.

"Maybe I'm too broken, and I've missed my chance." Carol's words were a tranquil whisper when the waitress suddenly arrived at the table.

They ordered two cups of coffee and a big piece of the superlative chocolate cake you could only get in "Maggie´s Café", for each of them. It was the kind of cake you celebrate like a party in your mouth, but you would regret eating it after the first bite. Michonne took the first bite and Carol quickly followed. They couldn't help but moan, twin smirks of satisfaction on their faces.

"That´s a great pleasure, I should stick to the cake!" Carol admitted with a half smile.

"Does that mean you want to end up as a fat frustrated woman?" Michonne teased.

Carol replied, "Hey, a fat frustrated woman with the best cake on earth! That´s a fairly good deal!"

"Do you think it would be easier for you, if a man wouldn't want you? That makes no sense, huh? I mean, you can't make a man sleep with you, if he doesn't want it … unless he would only sleep with you because you would pay for it," Michonne giggled, but suddenly she made a surprised face at her own stupid remark.

Michonne´s eyes went wide "Damn, that´s it! Have I told you about the office we furnished last week?"

Michonne was an architect and sometimes she got really extraordinary assignments. People with a lot of money could have odd ideas. Not the assignment per se, but rather the business.

"That guy who owns the premises … he´s got a very, _very_ interesting business, honey!"

Carol looked skeptical and Michonne sipped on her coffee, eyeing her excitedly.

"It's some kind of … agency. He´s got a lot of women _and_ some men who provide company to paying clients, if you know what I mean!" Michonne said with a wink.

Carols eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. "What? You can't be serious, darling!"

Michonne nodded knowingly. "You make an appointment with him, he shows you his available escorts and you can take your pick!"

"You mean for … for … you know!?" Carol gasped quietly, her eyes still wide.

"They won´t mow the lawn, girl!" Michonne giggled

Carol took another bite of the sinfully decadent cake, sat back and stared out of the big picture window.

"You're crazy, Michonne!"

"Maybe I am, but you should give it a try! Just call the owner and look at what he has to offer! If you´re not interested it's ok, but if you are - all the better! There´s nothing to lose! Even if you won't find someone you would … uhm … date … you can still tell me about the sexy guys in the catalogue!" Michonne couldn't help but grin.

Maybe the idea wasn't that odd. Carol could pick a man she liked, and everything would go her way. There was no reason for the man to be disappointed or frustrated. He wouldn't force her, he wouldn't rush things. This man wouldn't be interested in her either on an emotional level, or in a physical way, because he would only be doing his job and she would be the paying client who would make the rules. She often thought about how it would feel to be close to a man in a good way. It wasn't only about sex. Even if she would never be ready for sex, a man she´d pay would only go as far as she wanted without expecting more.

In the past, Carol had often thought about being touched by a man, and maybe she would´ve allowed Tobin to touch her, but then she thought, if she couldn't have gone further, the disappointment would've grown, or Tobin would've lost control. He'd wanted her; she had felt it and it had scared her.

Carol appreciated human closeness. She enjoyed an arm around her shoulder or a hug between friends, or cuddling with Sophia a long time ago. Sometimes Sophia´s closeness was the only one she could tolerate, because she knew, her little girl wouldn't hurt her.

Touches with sexual intentions scared her because in the end there would be nothing but pain and degradation. She knew it shouldn't be like that. She'd heard about it … read about it, but she was familiar with the bitter truth, and still not sure if she could learn it could be different.

Sometimes she'd felt lust, over the years, a small flame of desire daring to ignite her fantasies, and she still had a little helper with batteries in her nightstand. It wasn't romantic, but practical because at the beginning Carol really hadn't known how to touch herself. She'd needed several attempts, and a lot of time and patience to make her body react, but she knew at one point it wasn't enough. She wanted to feel hands … foreign hands, hands that wouldn't hurt her.

Michonne took her smartphone and searched for the contact information. "Oh, here it is! His name is Glenn Rhee, I´m gonna send you his number!"

When Carol opened the door, stepped into her apartment, and let the door fall closed behind her with a familiar click, she was more confused about the whole issue than she'd been two hours ago at the café.

She wasn't like that; she wasn't the woman who would pay a man to sleep with her, or to touch her or for wherever it would lead to. She felt restless about this idea. She couldn´t go for it, but she couldn't say no either. It was ridiculous and selfish, but it intrigued her.

She couldn't remember the last time she had done anything just for herself. Not since she'd had to build a new life after that terrible day seven years ago. Yes, she'd done something for herself, she'd had to. But this wasn't the same, it was about moving forward … surviving … a way to keep going. Now Carol had a new life, but was she really living?

Maybe Michonne was right, and she should give the whole thing a try. One thing she had learned in her new life was that she could say "stop!" anytime. She could call this Glenn guy and say 'stop' after this. She could meet him at his office, make a choice and say stop if she felt she couldn't go through with it. She could still say 'stop' with every inch the man she would have picked would come closer. It was her decision.

Carol had to grin. Until now, she'd wasted no thought in the fact that she would need money for it. The need to pay someone was a hindrance, but the money for it didn't grow on trees. How much was a callboy? When the word callboy came into her mind she winced. Carol and a callboy sounded like an abstruse combination, but in the end there was no one who would justify her because no one had to know about it.

She still had money from Ed. Sure, she'd needed some of it for the new start, but there was still something left. Besides, she'd earned her own money as a social worker and she was a frugal person. At this thought, she remembered again, how little she did for herself, and how she never splurged on extravagances. She only bought things she really needed, but no luxury items. Ed had taught her to abandon everything other than what was absolutely necessary. He did that well, but only with her and Sophia. His own comfort was important, and she was the one who bought him all the expensive stuff, because he was far too lazy to do it on his own.

The idea of spending Ed´s money for a callboy for her own pleasure or even just for fun was pure satisfaction, and maybe a little bit of revenge, too. Even if the whole thing would go awry, it would burn Ed´s money and only this would make it already worth it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her smartphone, because Michonne had finally sent the contact. Oh lord, a friend like her was a great gift, and she seemed to take this very seriously.

Carol had met Michonne seven years ago, when she'd made contact with her husband Rick, the police officer who was responsible for her case. It had been the darkest day of her life, but she'd found some light in Rick and Michonne. Both did their best to help Carol, and she would be infinitely grateful forever. Maybe she owed it to Michonne to take her advice, and besides, this woman always knew what was right.

When Carol placed the pizza on the table by the sofa in her living room, and turned the TV on, she knew she needed a little bit of excitement in her life. She would go for it and call Glenn tomorrow, it was settled.

She spent the evening with a trashy romantic film, and she didn´t know why she'd picked something like that because it wasn't something she wanted or needed. It was just something to pass the time, something for background noise where she could lose herself in her thoughts. She wasn't in love with Tobin; Carol knew this for sure. But he was some kind of Anti-Ed, the opposite of the man who'd hurt her so much. He was friendly, attentive, understanding and patient, but she hadn't felt anything for him, and maybe she wasn't able to feel anything for anyone. Tobin couldn't be more than a good friend, but he wanted to be more for her and that confused her, too. He was such a decent man with a lot of patience, and he did all these nice things for her as he waited for the next step which would never come. Why? She was a broken person with scars on her soul and scars on her body. He'd never seen them, but what he could see wasn't much better. She was forty-six, grey-haired and her face bore a few wrinkles. Her body was more like a board than in a feminine shape, and suddenly she thought about the fact, that a paid man would have to deal with it, even if it was his job. Poor guy, she mused, but first she would have to see what the next day would bring, and the talk with Glenn,.. _If_ she could find the courage to call him.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Choice

Chapter Two

"Glenn Rhee´s _Ladies and Gentlemen_ – what can I do for you?"

When Carol heard his voice on the telephone, she winced.

"Uhm … hello … M-My name is … um … Carol Peletier … I´d like to make … uhm …" she stammered.

Glenn knew how hard the first call could be and quickly took the lead, hoping he could put her at ease. "Hello Mrs. Peletier, are you interested in making an appointment at my office?" he asked nimbly.

"Uhm … yes?" It was more a question than a statement. Carol winced, nerves causing her tongue to stick to the roof of her mouth, her usually articulate speech abandoning her. She was thankful the man at the other end of the phone used his own so confidently. She was using her midday break to call him, and was glad she wasn't forced to talk too much.

"If you like, you can visit me today! I have another appointment at 4 pm, but after this one we would have a plenty of time. What do you think, does 5:30 pm suit you?" he offered.

"Yes, that would be great!" she said shyly and ran her hand through her short curls.

"You know how to find me?" he asked.

Carol had already googled the address, and was familiar with the location. "Yeah … so … see you at 5:30 pm." she said quietly, hoping the talk would be over soon.

"Ok, Mrs. Peletier, I'm looking forward to meeting with you today - bye!"

"Bye!"

When Carol hung up, she could feel her face flaming with fifty shades of red, hoping no one at the office would notice. Today was a quiet day, and she trusted it would stay this way.

She helped women to escape their cruel marriages or abusive relationships, and supported them to build a new life. She helped them to find an apartment, a job and new strength – how Rick and Michonne had done it then with her. Most of the time, she talked to the women and their children about their horrible pasts and how they could set up a better future with her help. She knew what she was talking about, which was why Rick had helped her to get the job. He'd arranged for Carol to get in on the ground floor as a clerk in the Office of Social Services and Family Welfare, thinking it would help her low-self esteem and give her the opportunity to aid others who'd had experiences similar to her own. It went a long way in helping her get on her feet as well.

She'd taken to it quickly, slowly building her confidence until she was compelled to do even more. To become a social worker, she needed a bachelor's degree. Michonne had helped her research online schools until she found one with the program and budget best suited to her needs. Before she helped these women the position hadn't existed in that way. There was a gap in the whole process before she'd taken on this task. There were social workers before, but they never supported cases like these over a long period with all the details and resources. It gave a great sense of accomplishment to know she was using her horrid past to help others.

Sometimes it was hard for her to deal with all the sad human fates, which reminded her so much of her own, but she was glad to help, and when she saw the end result of her hard work, it was worth it.

When Carol arrived at the agency and Glenn shook her sweaty hand, she couldn't believe she was really doing this. He led her to a massive dark wood table and let her take a seat. The office was elegant – Michonne had done her job well - but not as intimidating as she'd expected. There were heavy grey curtains and accents in a dark red and black, like the pillows on the freestanding beige sofa in the middle of the huge room.

"So I'm guessing you've never done this before, have you!?" Glenn inquired, smiling gently.

Carol let herself give him a small smile – her hands trembling where they rested on the table. "No, and to be honest, I still don't know if this could be the right thing for me. Maybe … maybe it was a mistake to come here… and I should …" Carol looked down, and was thinking about leaving the agency as fast as she could, when Glenn placed his hand calmly over hers.

"Let me show you our assortment of escorts and feel free to make your choice. You don't have to decide today. No one is going to pressure you while you think it over. You have plenty of time to figure out your best options. And if there´s no one who feels right for you, it´s also ok. This is just an interlocution. You prefer gentlemen, don't you?" Glenn asked in a competent manner.

"Yes, of course … a man … someone in my age, I think." She said nervously, staring at the two folders on the table.

Glenn took one of the folders, slid the other out of the way and opened the first one, skipping the pages with the younger escorts. There was also a picture of Glenn and Carol´s eyes went wide when she saw it.

"That´s how the whole thing started!" Glenn added proudly and went back to Carol´s possible cull.

There were pictures of various men, three on every page.

"This is Morgan, he's a decent man and very talkative! If you need someone you also can talk to, he could be your man," Glenn said with a soft smile.

"Here we have Negan, he has a very strong, dominant personality, a bit on the conceited side, but he knows how to show a lady a good time. So, if this is your thing, he could be the one," he admitted.

He pointed to the next man in the folder. "This is Ezekiel, a real gentleman. He expresses himself very articulately. He is very courteous and he would treat you like a queen." Glenn said with a wide grin.

Carol didn't know what to say; maybe she would like to get an overview at first. When Glenn gave her the short descriptions of the men, she was unsure if one of these men could be someone for her. Glenn turned the page.

"The one with the eye patch is Philip; he is also a dominant personality. He lost his right eye because of an accident with a broken fish tank – I still don't know how this happened," he said with a wry smile. "Some women like it because it gives him an air of mystery."

"This is Merle, he´s a bit of a womanizer, but he's a gentleman in his own way. He loves women and he loves his job. He´s a rough guy, but very passionate. He's very popular among our female clientele." Glenn sat back in his chair and moved on to the next escort.

"Here we have Daryl, he´s Merle´s younger brother … uhm … I think he´s a little bit younger than you, but maybe you wouldn't mind!?" Glenn asked.

"I don't know; how old is he?" Carol was unsure, but interested. There was something about that attractive feral looking guy which sparked her interest. Glenn noticed her bright eyes, when she looked at Daryl´s picture.

"He is forty-two. I know he looks rough, but he is a very quiet person, almost shy … reticent. Sometimes a woman likes to be the seductress. He is a little bit different than my other escorts, but no less interesting," Glenn added.

"Shy … shy and reticent is good …" Carol thought aloud, and let her hand run over her chin.

"Do you want to meet him? I can call him to check when he´s available - he doesn't do this often.

Usually the meetings are in hotels, but sometimes at a place of the client's choosing. And if you meet him, and realize he's not what you´re looking for, you can end the meeting at no charge. We're not going to bill you for the initial meeting. You can come back to my office and we´ll search for your type until you're pleased with your choice." Glenn smiled confidently.

"Ok," she murmured quietly, her cheeks red. "I guess a hotel would be the right choice for the first meeting."

"Fine, so I will call you after I've contacted him. You're comfortable with late afternoon or evening? And are there days I shouldn't plan?" Glenn asked.

"Late afternoon or evening would be good, and which day doesn´t matter much, but maybe not too soon … today is Wednesday … maybe Saturday at the earliest," Carol said, biting anxiously at her bottom lip.

"Now, we have to talk about the awkward issues … payment and the rules." Glenn smiled, but his voice was more serious.

"You make every appointment with me, not with the escort directly. We have rules … no private contact between clients and escorts - you won´t share your numbers, email addresses or other contact details. _And_ my escorts always use protection – without exception. Every escort will also have his own rules - Daryl will tell you his personal preferences, but these are the general rules of this business.

We debit your credit card for one hundred dollars per successful appointment with one of our escorts, but you will pay the escort directly with his hourly fee – one hundred fifty per hour. We want to make sure you know who will get your money. Nobody gets exploited in my business. The escorts keep their fees completely."

"Usually the meetings are planned for three hours - more is possible, but never less! We want the escorts to take their time with the clients in a comfortable situation – so there should be no hurry. You're ok with all of this?" Glenn asked.

Carol nodded.

When Daryl laid down on his sofa at his sparsely furnished apartment, and saw Glenn´s name on the display of his ringing phone, he knew – he would have jobs to do. He still didn´t know why he'd started this whole thing two years ago, only because Merle had convinced him. He'd told him it was the perfect way to make money in a short time, and he would get a wet pussy regularly – that's how Merle had said it.

Daryl needed the money because with his part-time job at Dale's repair shop he wasn't able to pay all his bills. He wanted a full-time job, but Dale had given it to that dumb Dwighty boy long before Daryl had started to work there. He couldn't understand why that scrawny incompetent ass deserved this job. Once, the idiot had worked on a running engine and tattered half of his face because the thing exploded. For four weeks Daryl had managed his own work and the work of this sorry son of a bitch. He'd hoped the guy wouldn't come back – he was a danger to himself and others – but he had, and Daryl had accepted it the best he could.

So, he would still meet women once or twice, sometimes thrice a week to get paid for sex. He couldn't stoop lower, could he? He was still a Dixon, and he knew, when he thought of his father or Merle, it could be worse. He didn't have anything to do with drugs, neither did he have conflicts with the law like Merle did, and he'd never beaten the shit out of someone like his old man did quite passionately – the man who only related to liquor and his belt.

Daryl had no problem with sex. When he was used to the women after a few meetings, it was nothing more than a mechanical act. It was always like this, but now he didn't need to use this flirty dating shit – one less worry. Merle said pussies are important and he should appreciate a good fuck with a willing bitch like a real man. Daryl wasn't into sex in that way – he could live without it. He'd lived well without it for years, but possibly Merle was right. Maybe he would get used to the whole thing. Maybe he would someday, because there must have been something about it, if everyone made such a big fuss of it.

"Hey, _gentleman_ , how're you doing?" Glenn asked mischievously.

"Pfff!" Daryl snorted.

"I have a new client for you – I think she is a special case. Do you already have plans for Saturday? I know for sure you don't have an appointment with a client," Glenn chucked.

"Special case? What do ya mean?" Daryl asked, already irritated.

"She is looking like a real lady and she is very picky, but I think you and her could be an interesting collaboration," Glenn mused

"Damn, ya know how it is with the new ones – it´s too laborious, man!" Daryl sounded moody.

Glenn sighed. "But you need a new client after losing Mrs. Harrison to your brother last month."

"Damn … a´right … Email me the details," he growled, wondering just what his boss was getting him into.


	3. Chapter 3 - Preparations

New clients were always a challenge for him. He didn't know how to act, how to make them feel comfortable or how to put himself at ease either. He had to take his time to get used to somebody - a tricky task because he wasn't a person who liked to talk. The taste of the new client was another obstacle; would he take the client´s fancy and do everything right? He was still disconcerted why someone would've chosen him. What would a client see in a seedy redneck? What would a woman expect from someone like him?

Without Mrs. Harrison, he had two actual clients – measly compared to the tally the other escorts had, puny compared to his brother, but for Daryl it was more than enough.

He was glad Andrea Harrison - who he usually met once in a week or in two - had found a new victim in his brother because when it came down to it, she was annoying as fuck. It wasn't the sex, the blonde woman just talked too much, and every time it had gotten worse. Andrea used most of her time to bitch about everyone and everything; when they met for three hours, she would spend two of the three bitching. The sound of her voice scratched in his ears, and he was glad when this nasty part was over and he could put a hand over her mouth when she screamed too loudly. She liked it, but she didn´t know how much _he_ liked it. Most of the time she was bitching about her job - being a lawyer must´ve been a horrible thing, but dodgy Merle could've needed her help from time to time considering his reputation for trouble – a match made in hell!

He still had Jacqui and Deanna as his permanent clients. He met with Jacqui once a month – her husband was paraplegic who encouraged her visits, even paying for her appointments. It was none of Daryl's business and Jacqui was a dependable client who hadn´t yet annoyed him – quiet, respectful, appreciative.

And then there was Deanna - she'd been his very first client, and the most congenial. If he'd met Andrea first, he would´ve thrown in the towel immediately. Deanna was in her late fifties, but Daryl didn't mind - it was more important that someone was likeable, even if he didn't like people in general. She was caring and patient with him at the beginning, when he was a nervous wreck, and when they talked it was always agreeable. She was the only client with which he could hold a conversation; though only perhaps a short one. It had taken time, but it became easier to open up to her. He usually met with her once a week and he appreciated her company.

He was a little bit afraid, not wanting to disappoint Glenn again. One thing Daryl could be thankful for was the option to reject a client if he absolutely couldn't deal with them. There was this Jadis bitch once – he hadn't known what it was about her, but the wench was repulsive and disgusting as hell – her whole appearance and demeanor! She'd asked him if he would mind if she laid with his brother, too. Cocks were like guns, and she needed guns – a lot! These were _her_ words and Daryl had rushed straight out the door. Or this girl, a petite blonde; she was twenty-one, but looked more like seventeen and acted as if she were fourteen. She wanted to get in some practice with Daryl, because she hadn't wanted to disappoint her boyfriend their very first time. When she told him she loved to care for little babies and wanted to sing him something one day, his eyes had gone wide and he'd had to find a good excuse to get out of there quickly before the pulsing behind his breastbone escalated into a full-blown panic attack. After he'd calmed down, Daryl had called Glenn and told him, in a colorful mixture of expletives, what he thought about fucking little girls. After that bloodcurdling incident, Glenn had never suggested a woman younger than thirty-five.

Surprisingly, Carol got an email from Glenn only one day later; asking her for a time to set up the appointment on Saturday and to learn the location where she would meet Daryl. Carol felt it was all moving too fast. She'd only met Glenn – she had only met with him yesterday at his office, and now she was already scheduling an appointment for Saturday – the day after tomorrow! But she'd ordered it that way, and now she would have to accept delivery, whatever the cost.

She´d chosen the only hotel she knew in town which seemed pretty acceptable. Carol only knew it from the outside, but it had made a nice impression though it was rather expensive. She hoped the price was a good indicator for quality. Carol knew she couldn't book an expensive hotel room every time, if she decided to meet him regularly, but she would feel safer, for starters, in a hotel room than in her own four walls.

The guy was a rough looking man – she thought this only must have been his kind of style – but he was still a stranger. He was a stranger, he was an escort, but he was also a person - a human being. She slowly allowed his title of escort to become lost in her myriad thoughts – she'd called him ´guy' or ´man´ in her head; she would meet with a _man_ \- that thought was more pleasant to her. It made him seem more normal and helped soothe her.

Carol sent Glenn the affirmation for the appointment – she and Daryl would meet at 8 pm at the hotel _Grand Alexandria - room 118._

When Michonne and Carol met on Friday, Carol felt the time rushed by entirely too fast. There was only one day left, and she needed something to wear for the appointment. She wasn't the woman in front of the closet who whined because she could find nothing to wear for a date, but her actual wardrobe mostly consisted of suitable clothes ... discreet … boring. After her marriage, she'd even had to learn her correct size; Ed had only let her wear clothes in size sixteen – they'd been far too big and outdated by what she assumed was several decades - but she'd had no say.

At the beginning of her new life she'd had a say – _the only_ say - and Michonne had helped her. She'd discovered her correct size and together they had purchased clothes which suited her and with which she was comfortable. At the shops, Carol still saw pretty clothes she liked and imagined herself wearing, but most of the time, she still wasn't courageous enough to buy them. Over the years she became a little more confident – step by step.

When the two women wandered slowly down the shopping promenade, Carol was more than aware of what she'd missed before her new life had begun. She remembered the lack of the little things in life she could enjoy now. She'd lost so much, but sometimes she found a little piece of heaven and learned she could accept and enjoy it – it had been a long hard road to get there.

The simple yet elegant black cocktail dress was found quickly and suited her budget, too. She tamped down her excitement and disappeared into the changing room. She smoothed a hand over the classic lines, her eyes wide as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. It wasn't what she would call overly formal, yet it wasn't casual either. It was a classic blend of the two. The bodice was snug, enhancing her modest bosom, the neckline cut just below her collarbone. It made her feel confident rather than self-conscious about showing too much skin. It was sleeveless, the lack of which highlighting her toned and slender arms, and the fabric hugged her in all the right places. She smiled at the way the dress conformed to her figure over her hips and thighs. But was it too short? Would he like it? Carol shook her head and drew in a deep calming breath as she took a determined step out of the dressing room.

"You look gorgeous, madam – subtly sexy!" Michonne complimented, a wide grin curving her lips.

Carol wasn't sure, and tried to drag the fabric of the dress over her knees. "Are you sure? It´s not too short?"

"NO! You have legs for days, and it´s a shame you've kept them only for yourself until now! The poor guys who've missed them have all my pity!" Michonne added, exaggerated earnestly.

Carol rolled her eyes and nodded with a small smile.

"So … now you need something to put under that beast of a dress, baby!" Michonne suggested.

When they arrived at Michonne´s favorite lingerie shop, Carol felt like she was in a different world. She'd never been in a store like this before - she also could´ve been in a weapon shop instead, she felt so out of place.

Michonne had joyously shown her masses of delicate bras and panties; some were even transparent and Carol shook her head, her face tinted a lovely pink.

"You know … I need something … something … different!" Carol said, frustrated. Carol slowly and unsurely looked around the small store and eventually her gaze fell on a simple black bustier. She took it in her hands, felt the material and the decision was easily settled. It was made of what seemed the finest silk, designed to suck her in and lift her up, the lacing at the back adjustable to fit her perfectly.

Carol smiled shyly at Michonne. "That´s it!"

Michonne eyed her decision skeptically. "The guy will need a well assorted tool kit to get you out of that prison, let´s hope he is a talented mechanic!"

"He won't have to … " Carol whispered shyly as she caressed the garment with reverence. A sliver of heat as she imagined soft fingertips pulling at the laces curled up her spine. "It´s perfect."

Michonne nodded her head knowingly, biting at her bottom lip. "But I will pick the panties!"

Carol agreed with a soft smile.

They also found a black satin slip Carol wanted to wear under the dress. It was some kind of a negligee, thin with delicate straps. It would caress her skin and provide an extra layer of comfort. Michonne found matching panties with a hint of lace, which Carol eyed doubtfully, but she decided in the end to take a chance. The least she could do was to try them on.

When Carol tried the lingerie in the changing room, she had to trust her own judgment. She didn't want Michonne to see her in these clothes. After putting the clothes on – the bustier was a feat of strength – she felt pleased with the lingerie. It was still unusual for her, but if she had to wear something like this, these selections would be the only possible choice.

Leaving the store to celebrate their coup, they ventured over to "Maggie's Café" for a big piece of chocolate cake, Carol felt self-confident, but still agitated, worrying about how their Saturday evening would be and how far it would lead.

They said their goodbye's after a day full of shopping and gluttony, and Michonne tried to find some good advice for her best friend. Carol was taking a big chance, and she felt the need to offer her comfort. It took a lot of courage for the woman to step out of her comfort zone. "I´m so happy for you," Michonne said sincerely, pulling Carol into a warm hug. "I can see the fear in your eyes, but everything will be fine, I promise! This man will care for your needs and you will enjoy it. And I expect you to text me immediately after the meeting, because I´m almost as excited as you are! " she smiled excitedly at her last words.

Carol nodded, praying Michonne was right.


	4. Chapter 4 - Do ya think I'm a prick?

It was to be expected Carol would have spent some time in bed brooding before sleep finally found her that night. But when she woke up in the morning she was nevertheless wide awake. Today was the day, but she didn't want to let her thoughts circle about one and the same subject; she tried to focus on her schedule for the day. Cleaning the apartment was like cleaning her mind, she thought, and so Carol started with her tasks after a huge cup of coffee.

When she was done, she still had plenty of time for getting ready – her appearance and her state of mind. After the mess of mundane housework, she prepared herself a hot soak and searched for everything in the bathroom she would need for it.

Recumbently lying in the bathtub, she enjoyed all the effort she had with preparing herself. Grooming her body and soul, bathing it in relaxation became a calming ritual. She had made a peeling, shaved her legs, also her armpits and she'd trimmed the bikini area like she usually did. She hadn't wanted to shave it completely. In the past, Ed had wanted it that way, but she'd never felt comfortable. It wasn't that he favored it more that way – he demanded it – and Carol was quietly obedient. Those times were gone, and now she did it her way, and besides, she could hide the scars Ed had left on her pubic mound.

Donning her new underthings, Carol took a moment just to relish the feeling of fine silk against her skin. It was the first layer of her armor, a last bid to protect herself, and her last chance to say 'Stop!'. She was hoping it wouldn't come to that, but it gave her comfort to have there as her own personal safety net. The dress fit her even more beautifully over her new lingerie, making her feel more confident than she had in years, and she chose a simple pair of black pumps to go with it. She had a few nice pieces of jewelry she'd picked up second hand, but instead she chose something simple, a pair of silver ear studs and the delicate silver necklace with the small Cherokee rose pendant she favored. She traced her fingers over the petals, a sad smile curving her lips as she gazed at the symbol in her hand. It meant the world to her, this necklace, as did the person it represented. It was only fitting it should be a part of her armor.

Hair-styling consisted of running her hand through her short curls to put everything into the right direction – no direction to be honest - but that was just her. She was thankful her hair was curly and had made its own way of style.

Eventually she used a little bit of powder, mascara and an unobtrusive lipstick. Gazing at her still familiar reflection in the mirror – smiling perkily at herself - she was pretty content with her visual appearance. Understated yet elegant. Carol didn't want to look like someone else, but rather a better version of herself.

 _A real lady_ … _picky_ … _special case_ … Glenn´s words flew through Daryl's mind again – agonizingly - when he stepped out of the shower. He dried his whole body fast and tied the towel around his hips as he made his way into the bedroom. The only thing he could do was hope everything would run smoothly. He would try his best, but he couldn't pretend to be a different person. If he was not the man who´d conform to her high expectations, he couldn't change that, even if he tried. Besides it could be possible as well, that she was a real bad priss or ugly as fuck or both - a total failure. Situations like that were always embarrassing for both sides and he couldn't deal well with them. He didn´t know how to handle himself or the woman – running out of the room was his first choice until now. He picked himself clean clothes; a black pair of jeans - his favorite - a black undershirt, boxers, socks and also a black shirt and got dressed. To be a guest at a funeral wasn't his plan for today but he knew, he couldn't go wrong all in black. He knew style - though he was thrifty with his money - the most important rule being well groomed and clean, and he always made sure his clothes were suitable to meet with his clients. The appointment would happen, no matter what, and he would try to handle it – screw it!

Daryl gathered his keys from the coffee table and headed for the door. He had to get his nerves under control. If he went in there thinking the evening was going to be a disaster, it would surely fail. He owed it to himself _and_ his client to put forth his best effort. He hauled in a deep breath as the warm southern breeze caressed his face. Yeah … he could do this.

Pacing the room up and down – up and down – up and down, checking the mirror once – checking the mirror twice, and using the toilet every few minutes; Carol was a wreck! There were still fifteen minutes left to eight, but she wanted it that way, she wanted to familiarize herself with the room – how it looked, how it smelled, the furniture, the light. Carol modulated the dimmer several times until she was pleased with the illumination, for the moment – maybe she would change her mind another half dozen times in the next ten minutes.

The room was arranged in all nuances of beige and brown; huge with dark noble pieces of furniture, but the most conspicuous items were an exorbitant king size bed and a small fancy sofa – dark red. She would lead him to the sofa at first … she was already planning his arrival.

Carol replicated the almost familiar procedure with the room several times – lost in her messy thoughts - when she heard a knock. Looking at the striking wall clock – it was three to eight. She checked the mirror once again, her heart like a kettle in her chest – ready to explode.

Carol opened the door slowly with a shaking hand.

"Hey!" he growled quietly.

"Hi!" she said softly with a shy smile.

 _Hey? Hi?_ \- neither of them were prime examples for a creative greeting. His appearance was how she'd imagined with the aid of the photo she'd only seen once for a few minutes in Glenn's office. Carol stepped back to allow him to pass. His easy gait slowly trekked by her, and she was able to admire the entire package. He was more than she'd expected, and as her eyes trailed curiously over his body, a sudden spark of arousal took her by surprise. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, her nerves coming back to the fore. He was handsome and rugged much like his photo, but in an odd way he also looked different, too. She regarded him shyly from beneath her lashes, sizing him up unobtrusively as she closed the door, a bit louder than expected. She winced at the sound, smiled nervously and pointed her arm slightly towards the sofa.

"Maybe … maybe we should sit!" Carol said, her unaccented voice trying to sound more confident.

Daryl made his way straight to the sofa and placed himself between the middle and the end of it, to let enough space for her to sit next to him. She followed him slowly, deciding for the other end of the sofa to sit - their bodies facing one another.

"I´m Daryl," he remarked, already bemused.

"Carol," she added demurely.

Daryl raised his brows and Carol looked down to her lap in shame. She probably couldn't sit farther away from him, but the sofa had to end somewhere. Almost crimped into the corner, she waited - waited for him to act. He did this regularly, so he should know how to handle his role of the shy boy to start his routine with her soon, because he was the only person in the room who would know how to do this.

Daryl eyed her critically and wondered what the hell was going on with this woman, but maybe he'd already known it when she'd opened the damn door. That lady was probably a doctor's wife, or a lawyer´s wife, or she was probably a lawyer herself – _please, Jesus, not again! –_ and he was definitely the wrong man for that stuff! She must have seen a photo before and Glenn always gave a short description of each escort. This whole mess must have been a fucking misunderstanding! This woman wasn't ugly, but at the moment he wished that would have been his biggest problem, because he didn't know how to deal with her arrogant behavior – to put the light out was always an option, and it would have been easier than this now - but he'd rather use it as a last resort. He eyed her, looking for the right words and finally opened his mouth.

"Yer not happy with yer pick are ya? I … but … we can quit this now ... it´s not a big thing … ya can go to the agency again to find another guy," he stammered quietly.

 _Great! He hates you and isn't even courageous enough to tell you the truth, so he turns everything around!_ Carol thought, her ire rising.

"I should have known … I know I´m not … I thought … I´m sorry!" She hugged herself and turned her body towards the end of the sofa. Carol hadn't wanted him to see the disappointment in her eyes.

"What ya thought? Why're ya sorry?" he hissed irritably – standing up – heading to the end of the sofa, where she sat, to face her. When Daryl saw her watery eyes, he slowly understood. _Was she nervous?_ The possibility to leave the room was still an option, but his gut was telling him something was off. It wouldn't be the first misunderstanding he'd made because of his difficulty with words. So he bent down to face her and asked, "Do ya think I'm a prick, or are ya just tense?"

She looked up into his confused face, almost as uncertain as she was. "I´ve never done something like this before … and … and … I don't know how to do this … and I hope you're not a prick?" she explained herself, the last part more of a question. Her lips pressed into a thin line with a tiny smile, hoping she hadn't offended him.

He didn't answer and headed back to the sofa, sitting a little closer to her this time. Maybe she wasn't the arrogant lady he'd expected her to be and he should try to make a move. All hope wasn't lost yet.

Daryl screwed up his courage and inched a little closer to her, Carol's body still averted from him, but she turned her head slightly to face him, hoping a miracle would happen.

Just a bit closer, and she could feel his arm brushing ever so lightly along her upper back as he moved it to rest on the back of the sofa. She winced at first, but slowly Carol relaxed into his touch. It was a strange feeling for her, but it felt so good.

His hand made its way hesitantly to her shoulder and further over her arm, caressing her bare skin for the very first time, his tiny smile widening as he felt goosebumps appearing.

"Is that ok?" Daryl still wasn't sure if they were on the same page.

She nodded, gazing at him over her shoulder, her face nearer to his questing fingers.

Daryl slowly stroked her - lightly along her upper arm and advanced himself closer to her. There was barely an inch between their bodies. Carol leaned into his touch, into him and his warmth, his breath on her neck. He felt her body relaxing against him, brushing his lips against her neck and Carol let her head slowly fall forwards. The touches, the tiny kisses along her throat were all eagerly accepted, and his mind grew bolder. He heard her breathe excitedly and moved his other arm, sliding it around her waist.

Carol's hand came to tentatively rest on his forearm, and he smiled against her flushed skin, pleased to see her so affected by his touch. She was warm and yielding, responsive to his nearness. If she continued on this path, gave herself over to the pleasure he could coax from her willing body, he could see her calling on him again. He slowly drew away from her, his body moving with panther-like grace as he rolled to his feet. He held her gaze, blue locked with blue, both hesitant, feeling the other out as their wills collided. His breath caught, painful behind the thick wall of his chest as he held out his hand for her, anxious to see if she would take the next step. He expected her acceptance. He was, after all, a sure thing. She didn't have to fear he would reject her. All she had to do was take his hand. And still in what could have been an hour or a mere heartbeat … he waited.

He had done it like that several times – it had always worked …


	5. Chapter 5 - Stop!

Carol took his hand and felt his thumb brushing over her knuckles as she stood up – she felt almost dizzy. There had been just a few steps to the bed, but for her it felt like a mile of treacherous terrain. A myriad of confused thoughts made her mind whirl with indecision. _Was this right? Was it too fast?_ Carol still felt the slight tingling of his fingertips on her skin. He had known how to use his hands and his lips. _How would those lips feel on hers?_ She felt the warmth in her body build up again, and the inquisitiveness won the inner fight against her fears, her misgivings, and she was determined to let it happen.

He led her to the huge bed, and stepped behind her slowly – stroking her arms again, feather-light along her shoulder to her hands, squeezing them gently. She felt his lips on her neck again, felt his breath while his heavy hands made tender patterns all over her stomach and along her hips, brushing her breasts through the material of her layers when they made their way up again.

The sound of the zipper, his thumbs under the material and suddenly her dress fell to the ground with a soft thud. Carol couldn´t move.

His hands still exploring her body, his kisses making a wet trace along her neck over her shoulder. It was almost silent, their breaths and the whisper of his lips, his hands on the material were the only sounds.

When his thumbs made their way under the thin straps of the negligee, she placed her hands gently on his over her shoulder and moved her head to face him.

"Not yet…" she whispered, her voice strained.

He took her arm gently to turn her around, gazing searchingly into her inquiring blue eyes. It felt as though he could see right through her for a moment. He took a step backwards and started unbuttoning his shirt slowly. She watched him with curious eyes – standing frozen in place, hugging herself.

"Ya can take a seat, if ya want," he said with a shy smirk.

She did so, watching him as he slowly undressed. When the shirt hit the floor, she blushed, almost afraid to look, but she was also eager to see him. He was pretty defined - his shoulders broad, but not too inflated – there was still a softness about the form of his body. He kicked his boots off, his socks following. His deft fingers opened the belt of his pants next, his movements unhurried. He avoided her gaze while he did that. Maybe he was still playing his shy thing, she thought. Carol heard the zipper of his pants, and when they fell and he stepped out of them, she closed her eyes, afraid of what she would see when she looked again. But she´d heard his hushed footsteps as he moved closer, kneeling before her. Her skin tingled as his warm hands reached out to carefully remove her shoes, one at a time and set them aside. He was still in his boxers and his undershirt she was relieved to see.

Her breath hitched, and she forced herself to remain calm as his hands trailed over the outside of her thighs in a soft caress, his smoky blue gaze holding hers as his lips dipped low to place a kiss to her knee.

"I´m not takin´ this off," he said, raising his hand to pluck at his undershirt. "And if ya want, I'll kiss ya everywhere, but not on the mouth … not ´cause yer a … a client … just ain't my thang … never was. Ya a´right with that?"

She nodded. "And I won´t take this off." pointing at the negligee she wore. She decided it spontaneously, listening to her instincts, knowing she would feel more comfortable this way.

He nodded.

Daryl stood up, grabbed his pants and got something from his back pocket. A condom – he placed it on the nightstand - before slowly climbing onto the bed, eyeing her warily. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at the condom on the nightstand and swallowed hard, her heart pounding a thunderous tattoo as she finally turned her upper body to face him. When his eyes darted to the place next to him on the sheets, she followed him hesitantly.

He inched closer to her, stroking her hip gently with his fingertips, while she carefully brushed his shoulder with a shaking hand. He began to make his way with tiny kisses from her throat to the soft skin of her collarbone, until he found the swell of her breasts. His work-roughened hands ghosted gently up her sides, his fingertips brushing the undersides as he buried his face in the valley between, inhaling deeply, moving slowly. He reached for the silk, pushing it aside to gain better access to her bare skin. He held her tight, too tightly, his fingers grasping a bit too roughly, his thigh pushing between her own.

His kisses slowly grew fiercer on her, searching for every inch of exposed skin. He was heavy; she could hear his breaths over her – his body trying to crawl between her legs like an intruder. She couldn't move, cold sweat breaking out on her skin, the sharp twang of fear coating her tongue. Her body began to tremble, and she pushed against his arms, but he only seemed to grow heavier on her, she couldn´t breathe. She was trapped - she had to get out of there, she had to … she …

He heard her screaming.

"NO! … STOP! … PLEASE! …" Her voice full of fear, she was kicking and lashing out, scratching his upper arm until he jumped away from her bewildered, his mind too slow to understand.

Still averted from her and shocked from what had just happened, his voice rose in anger. "What the fuck?! What the hell are ya doin'?" he hissed loudly.

"Please, don't …" she begged.

When he looked up, and came to his senses, he saw a familiar image - too familiar. She was lying against the headboard rolled into a ball with her arms folded, protectively over her face. He´d seen that before - he´d seen it a long time ago through key locks and through door gaps, he'd heard it … the screams … the crying … he'd felt so helpless. He felt helpless _now_.

When he'd jumped on his daddy´s back to stop it, he'd earned a black eye or a broken arm for it, but he'd never stopped trying to protect his mama. And he'd always tried to comfort her, but his mama had always looked so sad - he hadn't been able to help her.

And here was this woman in front of him. He didn't know her and he didn´t know why, but he wanted to find the sorry son of a bitch who had done this to her, to slam a pickaxe into his skull or at the very least, beat him until he thought twice about doing it to her again or anyone else. And he wanted to punch himself for putting her in this position. He'd scared the shit out of her, made her afraid, crying, cornered and … fuck, he'd done this to her.

Ed´s mistreatments had started slowly with harsh words, later with orders, and eventually with calling her names and - she'd grown accustomed to it. She couldn't remember when his voice had changed, when he´d changed - from the man she'd married, to the tyrant – it happened almost imperceptibly. But Carol could remember the first time he'd hurt her in a physical way.

When she'd come home from the supermarket once. Aside from the other items on her list, she'd bought a lipstick, auburn like her long curls. Ed had come home from work and she'd welcomed him, smiling, hoping he would notice the new color on her lips. He did … he'd taken her by her curls, the long strands wrapping around his meaty fist, the pain in her scalp unbearable, and slammed her head against the kitchen counter. He'd also found the lipstick and stepped on it with a loud crack.

"You bought this shit with my money – the money I worked hard for! A worthless bitch like you don't deserve shit!"

That's how she'd gotten the first 'description' on her body he'd made with a razor blade on the soft skin next to her belly button - _bitch_ \- the snagging list would grow over the following years. They would become light lines, but still describing what she was to him – his permanent brand upon her skin, his mark on her for all time.

Sophia had been too little to understand why her mommy cried so much.

Daryl didn't know what to do … how to act. All his escort skills – everything he'd learned – was inappropriate and totally out of place now. His body hummed with the need to do _something_ … react ... interact … _How?_

Should he try to calm her – to comfort her, or should he just leave her alone … leave the room? He didn't know how to comfort someone – he knew nothing about comfort. Daryl didn't know how to offer comfort, much less how to accept it. Should he keep his distance, or move further away, or should he touch her with a gentle hand? _Better don´t touch!_

His body was trembling like hers, and he pierced her big blue eyes with his own wary gaze, staring at her. "Who did this to ya?" he asked, his deep voice almost a whisper.

Carol lowered her arms from her cowered head, her eyes haunted, deep pools of misery.

"My husband … he … he –"

"Where is he?" his question impatient, anger riding just barely restrained beneath the surface of his skin.

"He is gone …" Carol wiped her tears away to eye him. "… died seven years ago."

"Good … I … I´m so sorry ´bout what I did … shit, I'm so sorry!" He dropped his face into his hands as his words trailed away into shameful silence.

"It´s not your fault … you … you couldn't have known!" While Carol slowly calmed down, Daryl was still in a shock-induced paralysis.

"Do ya want me to go, should I leave?" he asked insecurely. "I would never … ever … shit! I´m so sorry!"

Carol unfurled herself out of her cornered position and sat up against the headboard, stretching out her legs and took a deep breath. She wasn't scared because of him, she was scared because of her own fears and the dark shadows of her past – triggered by his actions to make her feel good. And she noticed her reaction did something to him, too. Carol didn't know what it was, but he felt more familiar to her – he appeared more human.

Her gaze pointed to the empty space next to her – asking him to sit with her and he did so - slow and tentative, their shoulders inches from touching, but close enough to offer the other warmth.

"Oh, I scratched you … I´m sorry!" she gasped, noticing the bleeding scratch on his arm.

"Naw, don't be, it´s nothin´!" he mumbled, wiping his hand roughly over his arm. He eyed her, inspecting her.

"Why are ya doin´ this … this here … with me?"

Carol's lips formed a sad smile. "I thought … maybe … maybe you could help me … help me to learn it doesn't have to hurt. I want to try at least … would you try it?"

"What … what can I do? Tell me what to do!" His voice pleaded with her, desperate to make up for the fear he'd caused her.

"I liked your touches on my back," she admitted shyly, afraid of his reaction. He bit his thumbnail nervously and eventually nodded.

She positioned her body on the bed, lying on her stomach, waiting for him. Daryl followed her slowly and took the same position, facing her. They watched each other – blue on blue – and it felt so different than before. He took his shaking hand, hesitantly placing it on her soft skin and commenced making lazy circles on her back. He mapped all the skin the material she wore allowed him.

It was a new experience for him to touch a woman not in a sexual way, but when he felt her velvet skin under his fingertips it felt so unexpectedly easy. Carol let her eyes fall closed, and he hoped it meant she trusted him a little bit, even if he were a stranger who brought back bad memories. He would try to make her feel good – he felt he owed it to her.

She relaxed under his touch, while he did his best to cherish her skin with his fingertips. Daryl could see her countless little freckles and played paint by numbers all over her. Maybe it was the first time he had really _seen_ her – the first time he´d really _touched_ her and he wondered how he hadn't noticed before how soft her skin was.


	6. Chapter 6 - See You!

His fingers were still sliding over her upper back, drifting to her shoulders and along her neck from time to time. She kept her eyes closed, her face relaxed, and her breaths a tranquil steady rhythm. He reckoned she'd fallen asleep at some point. He slowed his touches down, the intensity and also the pace, eventually pulling his hand carefully away from her warm skin, apprehensive to disturb the peaceful image in front of him.

He moved slowly, searching for a clock in the room until he looked over his shoulder to find one next to the door. It was twenty to eleven, but he wouldn't wake her up. A brief concept intruded his mind, if he should let his sudden tiredness win over his habits, to close his eyes and follow her into sleep, but he knew he couldn't. Sleeping next to a person was an impossible thing for him, why should it be any different now?

Daryl scrutinized her then, his eyes curious, taking her in to the tiniest detail. She was attractive, her legs well-formed and her tender curves were in all the right places - she was delicate, but not fragile. He eyed the negligee she wore and still could feel the material under his fingertips. There was something more she wore under that, he had felt it, and he wondered why she had cloaked herself so heavily, but he would accept it, as long as she would agree to the garment he himself wouldn't give up. His gaze wandered over to her face – she was pretty. Not the trivial Victoria-Secret pretty, but rather the kind of pretty you notice at the second or third glance. Her eyes were still closed, but he remembered they were blue, like his, but in a richer more crystalline color. Her facial features were soft, and her now slightly parted lips were narrow, but they were nevertheless nicely formed. Her face wore some fine wrinkles and he estimated her a couple of years older than him, even if he thought she must be much older when he'd seen her at first sight, when he'd wondered why she didn't dye her hair. But by his closer inspection now, when he imagined her with a different hair color, he concluded nothing would fit better than her silver curls.

At last, she stirred, lightly, and he increased the distance between them, sitting up in a slow move. He hadn't wanted to frighten her when she would open her eyes soon.

She did, awareness creeping into those azure orbs as she regained her consciousness slowly, and he could see she needed a short while to adapt to the situation where she found herself now. Finally, her lips formed into a tiny smile, and he was quietly relieved to see it. Carol stretched her body carefully and rolled slowly onto her back, facing him, shy but curious.

"Ya fell asleep – do I bore ya so much?" he asked, smooth but lightly teasing.

She blushed. "No, but I had no idea you were so skilled with your hands … I mean … crap!'" The color in her cheeks deepened. "I just … didn't know your touch would be so soothing."

"Yer ok?" Already searching in her eyes for an honest answer to this ordinary question.

"I think so …" she smiled nervously, and let her gaze drift around the room, spotting the clock on the wall. She bit her lip anxiously, seeing it was already past time for him to take his leave. "Oh, you … you have to go, I mean … my time is up and you can leave … could have left ten minutes ago …" she added nervously, putting a hand over her mouth.

"Hey, relax … no hurry … it´s a´right," he said calmly.

But she had already jumped off of the bed and headed to the chair, searching for the envelope in her purse, grabbing it to place it onto the bed in front of him. Suddenly she noticed the way she did it, the rude gesture - disrespectful - and she felt sorry for doing it like this, even if she had no idea how she could have done it any differently.

He eyed her, became aware of her growing discomfort over her actions and tried to put her at ease. "It´s fine! Just … let us put our clothes back on and then we'll work this out, ok?" pointing at the envelope on the bed.

She nodded and both put their clothes back on. With a silent understanding he helped her with the zipper when she bent out of shape to reach behind her to close it. They stood vis-à-vis then, ready to leave and Daryl´s eyes fell back to the envelope on the bed – the elephant in the room.

"Do ya really think the appointment was … successful? I mean … after what happened tonight … it would be a´right if ya didn't wanna see me again … I would understand ... and so ya don't have to pay," he rambled insecurely, biting the inner side of his cheek.

Carol tried to catch his eye when he avoided her gaze. "I asked you if you would try it … would you?" she asked hopefully.

Daryl nodded slightly. "Yeah … uhm … maybe ya would feel more comfortable if ya just put the envelope in a place where I can see it, an´ … then I could just take it when I leave, ya know?"

"Yes, I think that´s a good idea … I'm sorry for this … I hadn't thought it through." Carol was still embarrassed.

"Hey, ya didn´t put the money into my boxers, wouldn't have been the first time," he admitted with a half smile, hoping to calm her down.

He took the envelope from the bed and eyed her. "See ya?"

"See you!" she smiled.

When he was through the door and it had fallen closed, Carol fell apart in the sudden silence like a house of cards and let herself drop onto the bed. She'd thought about staying the night, having already paid for it, and it would have been less awkward to check out at the reception in the morning rather than now after a couple of hours, but she felt uncomfortable in the foreign room now; it was weird without him here, all alone. And maybe she needed the distance to this room and to what had just happened here and get home. She needed a familiar place she felt comfortable with, to sort out all the emotions which seethed inside her now. She inspected the room with a probing look and headed to her purse. Grabbing her phone, she texted Michonne assuring her everything was fine, and they would talk on Monday when they met for lunch – her friend wouldn't be happy with the short lines Carol sent her, but she couldn't muster more than that right now, while she was still too busy with herself and her messy thoughts. Michonne would expect a precise play by play that was for sure – but on Monday, not now!

Carol left the room with determined steps, without ceremony, and prepared herself with a deep breath for an awkward check out after she spent a couple of hours in a hotel room.

Daryl felt uncomfortable for taking the money, his gait heavily laden with guilt as he made his way through the hotel. He knew it like he lived there, having visited it more than a couple of times. He hadn't done his job, but it was a totally different situation with her. She'd wanted it that way, and he hoped she wouldn't still be mad at him, but he also felt a little bit proud, because she'd let him touch her after that. She'd wanted him to touch her and to meet him again, and maybe it meant she could accept him. He would be patient with her and would try to make her feel good – he hoped she would let him - and at least he wouldn't stand under the hard pressure to perform. Sometimes he felt like a gadget made to function on demand – working at the touch of a button – useless when out of commission. She treated him like a human and even if the situation with this new client was strange, it was more placid than most of his appointments.

If she wanted him to caress her back, he would do it all day, and he guessed she could become an agreeable client. And if she came to want more one day, maybe it would be easier to give her what she needed, because he could become familiar with her beforehand.

After all that was said and done, he felt guilty about the way he saw her, when he'd looked at her at the very first time. He'd never had a good knowledge of human nature, and was eventually glad about the fact that he'd tried to find out why she behaved like this in the first few minutes – he could have left the room, but he hadn't, and that was probably the right decision.

After Carol spent a lovely lazy Sunday on her sofa reading, Monday caught her on the wrong foot and the everyday hassle put the memories of last Saturday further from her mind, but she was still sure – she wanted to meet him again. She didn't know why, but she trusted him. And even if she hadn't known what his shy boy game was, or what was authentic, Daryl´s reactions to her sudden outburst were real and she knew he wouldn't hurt her. He wouldn't do anything against her will, and that was what she wanted.

She managed the first part of the stressful day at work and now waited for Michonne at the café for their lunch date. She definitely needed the cake for relaxation and besides, it was the only sin she could give herself as yet – maybe she would find other things to enjoy with Daryl in the future - maybe.

When Carol saw her friend passing the door and heading to the table with curious eyes, she knew, Michonne wanted to know every little dirty detail.

Between the cake, the smacking, her wide eyes and open mouth - not to mention the entire pot of coffee they'd gone through - Carol told Michonne almost everything about the evening, her cheeks tinted a lovely pink. She also told her she would meet him again, but Michonne had her doubts.

"He did what? You were not ready and he didn't notice it? He should have known how far he could go!" Michonne said with an incredulous look.

"But how could he have known? It wasn't his fault, you can't blame him … and besides – he was very compassionate after he calmed down … maybe he was more shocked than I was about this situation." Carol tried to make it clear.

"Baby, I just don't want anything to happen to you! Please tell me you´re sure he will treat you right." Michonne wanted to trust her friend so badly.

Carol nodded knowingly "He will, and he already did … there's no need to worry."

Michonne smiled and leaned back, her eyes drifting around the café.

"Oh my god, look who´s here and who he´s talking to!" Michonne leaned closer to Carol, her gaze pointed discreetly toward the huge counter. Carol giggled slightly.

Glenn Rhee leaned against the counter like a nervous rooster, his face bathed in a lovely pink and he smiled moronically.

"How cute, the Chinaman is interested in our sweet Maggie," Carol noticed cheerily.

"He is Korean!" Michonne added.

"Whatever … they are really cute together, but he's so nervous, though he should know how to deal with a woman," Carol smirked.

"What do you mean?" Michonne asked confused.

"He offers himself, too … could´ve booked him if I´d wanted!" Carol whispered.

"Holy shit!" Michonne's eyes went wide. "But I think he played the lady-bait for the longest time, how he´s looking at her … she' already got him wrapped around her little finger!" Michonne mused.

"It must be wonderful to feel like this … I hope there´s still love out there … I have to believe in it … I have to hold onto something," Carol smiled sadly.


	7. Chapter 7 - Yer Ready?

Daryl´s Monday was a hard one – again. Dwight wasn't an idiot at the beginning, and Daryl really tried to help him with his shortcomings, sometimes - because in total he wasn't a bad mechanic. Everyone makes mistakes, but Dwight was a bundle of nerves, and had been lacking in focus since his wife Sherry had left him for a professional baseball player. Daryl couldn't rely upon him anymore, and he always had to check to see if the guy had done his work correctly. Like today - the hopeless case had tried to install a trunk lock of the wrong type into a client's car and spent almost two hours, in vain, wondering why it wouldn't fit properly. Daryl managed it in twenty minutes though and couldn't help shaking his head when it was done. So Daryl was glad when he could make his way home at two. He really had to come down after this day, even if he had only worked for a couple of hours, it had nevertheless been exhausting.

When he finally arrived home, after the traffic almost drove him insane, he peeled off his grimy work attire - wasting a short thought about burning them immediately - he had a shower and fixed himself something to eat. He practically inhaled it in front of the TV, legs propped up on the coffee table. Eventually he left the comfortably worn sofa unwillingly, and chose something appropriate to wear to his second job, because today he would meet Deanna again.

Carol's mind drifted almost continuously to her appointment with Daryl, but it didn't distract her from work. Today she'd met with a woman and her two sons - terrorized by an erratic husband - the woman still couldn't come to the decision to leave him. They had enough money, a nice house and the man was a competent surgeon who was always sorry after he'd taken his frustration out on his wife. The younger son told Carol about what happened every time and knew he couldn't hide in the closet forever, forced to listen to his mother scream helplessly. The boy´s eyes always met Carol's - seeking help - so she tried her best to convince the woman, that an abusive husband would never stop, even if he was sorry and the good times they'd shared - still might share - would slowly diminish until there was nothing left but the bad. The older boy scared Carol, because his defensive behavior made clear he wasn't all right with leaving his father - maybe he thought it was okay how his dad treated his mother, and maybe he would follow his father's example. Probably, the circle would close again in a never-ending game of torment over generations. A harsh shiver went down Carol´s spine.

She would try to convince the woman, but there was nothing more she could have done. When Carol had been in the same situation then, not even Rick had been able to convince her, and when she had finally been courageous enough to make the decision to leave Ed, it had already been too late. You have to make a choice for your life before your life makes the choice for you. It was a lesson she'd learned - too late.

Sometimes Carol shared her horrifying story with the women, to wake them up, but never when the children were in the same room – it was nothing for their sensitive ears.

The meeting with Deanna was more difficult this time; Daryl was just too distracted and maybe too tired of this business. Deanna was understanding and patient, but she had a difficult time waiting until he could make himself _functionable_. Daryl was wondering why she hadn't already chosen another escort, but most of the time he didn't even know why someone would pay him for his miserable effort. Maybe Deanna was bad at dealing with new people - just like him - and she was glad she´d found someone she could become familiar with. After her beloved husband was killed by a madman running amok it had even been too hard for her to leave her home office. Maybe Daryl was her only distraction.

When Daryl left Deanna´s house and headed to his bike, he checked his phone - curious if Glenn had sent him details about a new appointment with Carol. He hoped she hadn't changed her mind. He was a little bit disappointed to find no messages or missed calls, and drove home. He had to remind himself it was only Monday, the week had just started.

Carol really wanted to call Glenn Rhee for a new appointment with Daryl, but she didn't want to seem too desperate and call too early - it was just Monday and besides, when she finally made it home, she was dead on her feet and almost too tired to breathe. But maybe Daryl would be fully booked if she waited any longer. _You have to make a choice for your life before your life makes a choice for you._ The phrase came to her mind again. She would call him Tuesday - it would still be early enough without her appearing too desperate, good decision!

She called him the next day during her lunch break like she would order a pizza and after a while Glenn sent her the suggestions for an appointment in an email. She fixed an appointment for Friday - the next best date, maybe she _was_ desperate, she thought, but Friday was still too far away.

 _Between the day-to-day work stress life is sometimes too fast and sometimes it is just too slow when you're waiting for something._

She was curious about him. Would they talk? Would something more happen? After the last meeting, she regretted the missed opportunity to touch him. She assumed he would feel good under her hands - he was a very good looking man. Last time, she had been too busy with her own - real or imagined - inadequacies to feel his body, his skin. When she thought about getting close to him, she also thought about how it would feel to kiss him, but this vision popped like a soap bubble when she remembered his rule … he wouldn't kiss her. He wouldn't like it in principle. Maybe he'd lied, and he just didn't feel comfortable enough to kiss clients, or maybe he really didn't like it. Were all men like that? Were all men just doing this kissing thing because the women were expecting it? She would find out - maybe - and she would put her focus on him if she dared.

The end of the week was a relief for Daryl. After Glenn had sent him the details for the new appointment with Carol, he'd been relieved to get a second chance. He didn't know what would happen, but he would make sure something like the last time wouldn't happen again - he would be vigilant, observant.

When Daryl arrived at her apartment, he was surprised - maybe she wasn't rich as he'd assumed. It was a good district, but nothing someone would live in with money to burn. He rang the doorbell and waited, and he became nervous about the unexpected order of events, he didn´t know what would happen.

She opened the door and smiled, her big blue eyes expectant; what he could see through the door gap appeared to be a warm atmosphere. She wore blue jeans and a white casual blouse - if he hadn't recognized those blue eyes and the matchless smile, he would have been sure he was at the wrong address.

"Hey, you!" Carol said, her cheeks flushed a lovely rose.

"Hey, yourself!" he replied, rough but charming.

"Come in!" she invited. "Just made myself a cup of coffee; would you like one?" Caffeine rarely worked in her system anymore, so Carol didn't care about the side effects of coffee at eight pm.

"Would be a´right with a coke if ya have one." he said, following her through the hallway into the kitchen.

The situation was still awkward in some way, but in another they knew there was a whit of connection and no one had to try to figure the other one out anymore - at least not the willingness to engage in each other, they already knew they could accept each other and the journey - wherever it would lead to.

"It´s a nice place." Daryl leaned against the counter, observing the surroundings - now he was sure, she wasn't rich, but she might have furnished this place with all her commitment and heart. It appeared very cozy to him.

"Never thought you would be one for small talk … but thanks," she reckoned with a grin and handed him the Coke with a slightly shaky hand.

"Naw, really like it … different than the snobby hotel room … it´s yer home and maybe ya could feel more comfortable here, right?" he said hopefully - _and maybe me, too_ , he thought.

Carol nodded. "You´re still ok with that … with me?" she asked insecurely.

"Wouldn't be here otherwise … still would have a choice!" he clarified with a half smile.

Daryl made his way through her living room, waiting to go along with her. Carol had gone to her bedroom before, and told him to follow her five minutes later. He was a little bit surprised by how confident she acted. Her voice was still low, her eyes were still shy, but she wanted to take the lead, and he felt more secure about it. As long she would lead the way, he couldn't go in the wrong direction.

Daryl tried to spend the time inspecting her book shelves - that woman had a lot of books - masses! Some he knew, some were true classics, and some he knew only by their titles and from what he could see - some damn romance novels. He smirked to himself, letting his eyes wander until he noticed a worn rag doll next to a colorfully crafted picture frame - in it a photo of a girl. He guessed Carol had a daughter, who wasn't at home now, a cute sandy-haired girl with freckles like her mother. But the photo wasn't new anymore; the little girl must already be grown up by now. He creased his brows, but his guesses were interrupted by the thought of the _appointment_ in the bedroom - the five minutes must be over now.

Daryl slowly headed to the door he remembered as the one Carol showed him before, and knocked lightly.

"Yer ready?" he asked, his voice a deep growl, leaning his ear against the door.

"Come in," he heard her faint voice.

When he opened the door, Carol was seated on the bed, looking at him pensively - she was wearing that negligee again. Daryl closed the door behind him and leaned against it casually, wondering what would happen next. Maybe it would be easier to ask her - ask her what she wanted him to do. He would feel more comfortable if they would be open with each other; he needed her to trust him.

"What do ya want me t´ do? Do ya … do ya want me to go to the bed? Do ya want me t´… to take my clothes off?" he asked, his rough voice strangely calm.

Carol said nothing when she let her body slip from the bed slowly, heading his direction to stop mere inches before him, watching him for a short moment in silence until she finally opened her mouth to speak.

"Maybe I could help you … with this …" She let one hand glide slowly over his shoulder until the other hand became courageous enough to caress his neck softly, her gentle fingertips on his warm skin. Eventually she moved her fingertips to the buttons of his shirt - her eyes asking for permission.

Daryl nodded his head slightly and she began to open the buttons one by one, never losing his gaze until his shirt was open completely. He let the fabric slip from his shoulders and waited. Her fingers touched the bare skin of his broad shoulders, making their way along his collar bones and he couldn't help the goosebumps erupting over his flesh.

Daryl noticed her breaths became more erratic - like his - and her hands followed the lines of his upper body through the fabric of his undershirt. Eventually she leaned against him, her head resting on his chest. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, feeling his warmth, his heartbeat, while his arms circled her back, holding her gently.

Daryl wasn't used to the way she touched him; this kind of closeness was strange for him, but it wasn't disagreeable either. Maybe he could let himself engage in this, the unfamiliar way she wanted him. He could accept it and would let it happen.

She looked up and found his eyes again, loosening her grip on him slowly, but she still captured his body, now eagerly further down, stopping at his waistband, she bit her bottom lip.

He stirred, moving away from the door to allow them more room. She took a half step back - still holding his gaze - when he slowly reached for his belt buckle.


	8. Chapter 8 - May I Touch You?

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Daryl watched her, his smoky blue gaze open and inquisitive. He was down to his boxers and undershirt again, simply standing there, awaiting her command. Until that moment, Carol had known exactly what she'd wanted to do. She'd wanted to appear self-confident, brave, to take the lead, but now her lack of experience and nervousness made her indecisive as to how far she'd be able to go.

Carol clasped her hands to still their trembling and banish her insecurities, but she found she couldn't hold his gaze, afraid to have him watch her fall apart. She had to keep it together. She sucked in a deep breath, feeling herself slowly calm as she climbed onto the bed and laid on her side. Only then did she raise her eyes to his, silently asking him to follow. She hoped he would take her cue, and lie down to face her. She so wanted that warm comfort they'd shared after everything had gone awry the first time. She hoped they'd be able to achieve the same this time where neither of them would feel pressured.

Daryl moved slowly to her side, easing himself down onto his side and trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. He'd sensed her confidence waning, but he wouldn't allow her to fall. He needed to be open with her, to follow her lead, to give her what she needed. No amount of escort skills he'd picked up or arts of seduction he'd read about would help in this situation. He could rely only on his own wit and the empathy he possessed.

"What do ya like?" he murmured shyly as he stroked her bare upper arm in a gentle caress.

She bit her lower lip and he almost could see her thoughts running through her mind like a carousel, when she stared into a void.

"I … I don´t know," she admitted quietly as she let her eyes fell to the sheets in shame. "Maybe … we have to … to figure this out."

"Maybe we will." Daryl almost expected this answer, but he really wanted to know how he could make her feel good without going too far. It was a fine line he would have to learn for her, but he wanted to desperately. He could ponder the reasons later as to why it was so important to him. He gathered all his courage and moved closer to her, slowly putting his arm around her back until he began to brush her spine with his thumb in a soft caress.

Carol leaned into his touch and came closer to him, accepting the nearness, inhaling his scent. Daryl let his eyes wander over her form until he caught her gaze, his look asking for permission. When he saw the hint of a nod and a small smile, he leaned forward and began to cover her collarbone and along the soft swell of her breasts with tiny kisses, looking up every few seconds to search her eyes to make sure she was enjoying it. Carol held his cheek as his mouth made its way over her soft flesh - it seemed as though she was leading him - and his hand became more courageous to trace all of her back he could reach with skilled touches.

"Do ya like this?" he whispered as he kissed her sensitive skin. He was sure she did when he heard her sighs, but he needed her to feel safe, needed her to know everything he did was for her pleasure alone.

"Yes … " she breathed as she let her body roll onto her back slowly, taking him with her, so his upper body was above her, braced on one arm.

Daryl didn't dare to roll on top of her and he also still wanted to reach for her without pressure.

She held him firmly but gently by his shoulders when he slowed his exploration to find her eyes again. Carol let one hand travel to his neck along his chest while the other ran through his hair, exploring his soft locks.

He held her gaze when he placed his hand slightly on her stomach to spread his gentle touches all over it, finding her hips to bridge over her thighs. He felt her body relaxing, but also he sensed the anticipation, that sweet build up in her slowly. Her legs were slightly parted, and she let his hands wander along her thighs until he found the interfering fabric of the negligee.

When he looked at her, he watched her teeth rake over her bottom lip as her eyes focused on him, and he had to know if she was okay with his actions. "Say stop an´ I will … just say the word." When he noticed the darkening of her eyes and the barely there shake of her head, he slid the material mere inches away. He slipped his hands under the fabric as he discovered what she wore under it - letting his fingertips glide along her hips over the smooth material to her covered stomach.

She didn't dare move, but she felt the heat building up in her core with an intense rush like her blood was burning. She didn't want to act wanton, but she moved her hips up into his touch as she let her legs fall apart for barely an inch. She needed him there, eager to know how it would feel to have his strong versed hands there.

Carol let her eyes fall closed as Daryl put more of the fabric aside to get better access. He eyed the new area he discovered contentedly, her shape was astoundingly lovely and the black triangle of silk between her legs made him eager to move forward.

When he slowly reached for the thin material to let his fingertips glide under it to her soft warmth, he felt her reaching for his upper arm gently.

He almost froze and felt shocked about the sudden demur, but she took his hand in acceptance and led his fingertips over the fabric of her panties to make him understand that she needed him there - needed his touch, but wanted to take it slow - that she wasn't ready for this big step, but eager to feel him. There was no rejection in her big blue eyes, just the silent plea for patience and understanding.

Daryl unbent in relief and let his wary hand slide over her mound gently. When his fingertips glided deeper he felt her telltale heat and the revealing dampness through the fabric. Carol let out a soft moan, and he found her neck again to spread open mouthed kisses all over her pulsing skin. Her scent was intoxicating, and he felt his blood running proximal - making him shiver.

He shouldn't feel this way - it was about her and she trusted him to touch her - that´s why he was allowed to do this, to feel her. He shouldn't find gratification in this touch, knowing he wouldn't get his goal with her. This woman wasn't even naked and his cock already worked against his will, against his rationality.

Daryl didn't understand why his body had reacted so quickly. Control had never been an issue. It was necessary in his line of work. What kind of escort would he be if he couldn't control his bodily urges? Not a very successful one, for damn sure. Which was why he was stunned to find himself reacting so quickly to Carol. No other woman had ever been able to stir his desire in such a way. Why was it so different with her and what the hell was he going to do about it? Any moment now, she was going to notice his erection, and he could only hope he wouldn't frighten her, or make her think he would pressure her for more.

But Carol seemed to be far away now, lost to her pleasure, when he mapped the texture of her center through the smooth, thin material, and he could feel every detail of her. His fingertips glided all along her soft folds and her entrance and he heard her breaths become erratic. He felt her warmth heating and swelling - the fabric was already soaked.

She pushed herself against him, holding him tight as her hips made contact with his hardness. _Shit!_ He wanted to rip the damn material apart and bury himself deep inside of her slick tightness - to finally find release, but he couldn't - he wouldn't and the last thing he wanted was to make her feel pressured with his dirty needs.

Daryl had to bring _her_ needs into his focus again and get distracted again with making _her_ feel good. At least he had to try to get her off to show her that he was useful and not the complete asshole he felt like in this moment.

When he found her bundle of nerves to let his fingertips make unpressured circles in a steady rhythm she stirred like he was touching her whole body, but he wasn't sure if it was enough. There was some restraint in her body language - he could feel it. Maybe she couldn't allow herself to let go, or he was really doing something wrong.

"Can you come this way?" he asked cautiously, hoping he hadn't killed the mood.

He saw her head shaking slightly. "I don't know … maybe it's not the right time yet," she breathed in surrender.

Carol felt she wasn't ready to share something like that with another person. Losing control over her body to let go was a feeling she only experienced with herself and it had been a long road to get there. Maybe she could someday, when she would became more familiar with him, but she had to feel comfortable enough for it. She nevertheless enjoyed his touches and his foreign hand on places no one else was allowed to reach for years and never in this way. Now disappointed about her own barriers that she couldn't allow more, she was also astonished her courage had allowed her to go so far, even when it still wasn't enough. Maybe this man would be able to break her walls down; they had tackled a huge step today.

She took his hand and tangled her fingers with his, trying to calm down from the odd mixture of lust, fear and rejection. Carol let the other hand wander over his cheek and along his neck. She could feel his fear that he might've done something wrong.

"You did nothing wrong … it's me, I'm a mess, but … but you are amazing," she whispered with a tiny smile.

He nodded slightly in understanding, his cheeks burning as a reaction to the unexpected compliment. Daryl didn't know why, but he could feel that she meant what she said, even if he didn´t know why she thought she could describe him with a word like this - it sounded odd to him.

Carol held him by his shoulder and let one hand glide along his upper body, enjoying his beguiling shape through the fabric. When her hand moved lower, she stopped her exploratory touch at the waistband and felt his abdominal muscles tighten - he was still hard. She caught his gaze and noticed his insecurities about this, trying to calm him down with an accepting look. Carol saw his hardness long and thick through the fabric of his boxers and suddenly an unfamiliar stabbing ache went through her lower belly - she hissed slightly biting her bottom lip in arousal. This beautiful man was also aroused by her - attracted to her and she almost couldn't believe she had this effect on him.

"What do you like?" she asked eagerly.

"Uhm … this here is about you … not about me, ya know!" Daryl was confused - why was she interested in what he liked?

Carol could feel his withdrawal, but she really wanted to know and learn his needs. "I think I also want to learn about you … I … I don't know what men like …" she admitted in shame.

Daryl didn't know what to say, he couldn't say that he also didn't know what else he liked, except getting off - he couldn't tell her this, but he also didn't want to lie to her because she deserved the truth. She was so open with him so he couldn't lie to her and he wouldn´t.

The only thing Daryl liked about sex was to get off, but as an escort he'd learned to concentrate on what was in the best interests of the client before he could allow himself to let go. Climaxing was like the little reward for the whole great effort he had with the needs of the women. "Uhm … I guess … I like it to … t` come, ya know … but I don't have to … it just feels good …" he stammered as his cheeks burned in embarrassment.

Carol was bemused by this statement, but she also couldn't help smiling by his open answer. "But that means you wouldn't need another person for this, would you?" she asked smiling with curious eyes.

Daryl suddenly avoided her gaze and cleared his throat. "Uhm … like I said … it's about you … not me!"

"May I … touch you?" she asked, waiting for permission as her touches continued, and a shaking hand reached for his waistband.

"Sure" he whispered, still confused by her odd request.

Carol´s hand was still on his upper body and eventually she applied a soft pressure to his chest to make him lay down onto his back. His eyes widened as he followed her silent order, but he would let her take the lead if this was what she desired.

She laid beside him, her body slightly pressed against his, and she let her hand glide all over his form. His arm reaching for her, he took her into a warm embrace to hold her, touching her slender form gently. She slightly buried her face into the crock of his neck to spread soft kisses all over his warm skin.

Carol could feel his muscles tensing as she placed one leg over his, pressing her warmth against his hip. Her gaze asked for permission when she shyly indicated her desire to slide the fabric up to touch his muscular stomach. He nodded and she did so, caressing his form and the slim isle of hair which led to his boxers. He was getting harder again, and she could feel his physical call. She placed her eager hand cautiously over his growing erection, caressing his warm pulsating outlines with firm touches.

Daryl helped her and made quick work of his boxers when she reached for them to pull them down, her want to feel him growing with every touch. She touched him - her fingers traveling along the size and the unfamiliar softness of his skin there.

Carol took his cock in her hand firmly but gently and gave him some slow tentative strokes - getting him into full hardness. His pulsating member made her shiver to her bones, but she wasn't afraid, but rather curious and aroused. He let out a quiet moan and she guessed her actions would be right to pleasure him.

Daryl´s whole body felt on fire, and he was unable to resist the urge to buck his hips into her touch. He was already close and wondered how she was able to do his to him when usually he needed more time and more pressured touches to get this close.

Carol´s strokes led into a steady rhythm and she pressed her body closer into him, rubbing her heat into his hip. His hand squeezed her backside to bring her closer to him, if this was even possible - he wanted them to melt into one another. Their breaths became more erratic by their actions and she could feel his whole body reacting to her touch. She noticed the drop of moisture on the tip of his cock and used her thumb to spread the liquid all over his tip until she increased the pace again, her big blue eyes searching for his to read his mind. The heat of his gaze and the low rumbling growl of pleasure from deep within his chest were her reward.

Both caught their breaths when she felt every muscle in his body tighten. He lost all his facial features - entrusting her delicate hand to every inch of his hardness when he lost control of his body to finally allow himself to enjoy her touch completely. The solid grip of her soft hand brought him to the edge and he hoped she wouldn´t stop - Daryl never thought he could need something so much.

He came into her hand with a grunt of relief and his eyes fell closed as she held him tight, feeling his vibrations flowing through her whole body and he wondered if he had ever come so hard.


	9. Chapter 9 - We Fight Him!

Carol was still wondering about her sudden courage to do something like this and the effect of her unskilled actions which made his body react this way - she couldn't help feeling proud about it.

She'd literally knocked him out, that was for sure from what she could see. Daryl was lying on his back - sweaty and trembling, staring almost in horror and into space at the ceiling until he turned his face to find her gaze.

When he came to his senses again, he realized - he'd come into her hand like an immature green teenager and his face flushed a bright red to the tip of his ears - his heart pounding an ominous rhythm in his chest. Without a doubt, he wanted to sink into the earth out of shame right then. He hadn't been able to get her off and now his cum was all over her hand and his belly - _what a mess!_ \- he usually lost it in a rubber or alone in the shower - no woman had ever had to deal with it - until now!

"Shit … I´m sorry … should have said somethin` … just … lost control," he stammered, trying to make sense of her tiny smile.

"Don't be sorry … it´s all right. I'll get something to … to clean this up, just give me a second," she said, smiling, her voice low and calm as she left the bed quickly.

She washed her hands and brought him a box of wipes. He cleaned himself up as fast as he could while she still couldn't help her mischievous grin - unable to hide it from him.

"What?" he asked quietly, still feeling ashamed.

"I guess you … liked this?" she asked shyly, her eyes wide and innocent.

 _Hell, yeah!_ "Uhm … I did …" he admitted, biting the inner side of his cheek nervously.

"I think the last time I did this was in high school … I'm not very skillful," she chuckled as she sat next to him - leaning against the headboard.

Daryl ran a nervous hand over his face and when the urge to cover himself became too pressing, he eventually grabbed his boxers to put them back on quickly.

Now both sat side by side again, leaning against the headboard until he made the decision to break the silence which had become more awkward with every second..

"Are we a´right? I … I didn't want t´ … scare ya … or make ya upset," he asked hopefully, gazing into her big blue eyes.

"You didn't … we're all right. Maybe … maybe it helps me to … to open up … too … you know? I never shared _this_ with another person … maybe it's easier for me, too now," she confessed.

Daryl knew what she meant, even if he was appalled about the fact that no man had ever been able to get her this far - or wanted to get her there.

"Was it always like … _that_ … I mean … ya husband?" he asked carefully.

"I don't think it was ever how it should´ve been, but … no, he wasn't abusive at the very beginning." Carol avoided his eyes at the last words. She didn't want to bother him with too much information, but he wanted to know it, didn't he?

"But ya married him … why?" Daryl was surprised by his own courage and also about his unexpected curiosity to ask private questions like these, but maybe he needed to know more about her, to figure out what she needed, how he could treat her right and how he could earn her trust. Besides - he really wanted to know why a woman like her had married a bastard who hadn't given a shit about a woman he promised to love and respect forever at the altar once.

Carol barely knew the stranger next to her, but nevertheless, she felt already familiar with him and close to him in an odd way - she was willing to answer his questions.

"I had just finished high school when I had to care for my mother as my father left … she had ALS and I supported her the best I could until she died. Suddenly, I was twenty-five - I had no money, no college degree, almost no social connections … nothing! Ed and me … we got to know each other at the diner where I worked … he was kind and charming then." The sad smile on her face faded quickly when she had to swallow hard. "… and later I thought I would have no choice, except to stay … and wait for better times … hoping to finally do everything right, so he would have no reason to … to become upset."

Daryl swallowed hard at her declarations - wondering if assholes like this would ever die out - sorry bastards who would treat a woman like this, but he knew one of them all too well – his old man was a prime example for this low species.

"Yer a strong woman … we fight him," he said as he took her hand in his - prudent but hopeful. The next moment he realized, that maybe he'd promised too much - but possibly his will to try was already a tremendous gesture - perhaps much more than anyone else had offered her until now.

Carol gave him a warm smile until her gaze went into a different direction - the smile faded. He followed her eyes to find the distraction she spotted now - the clock on the nightstand.

She eyed him, knowing he noticed it, too.

"It´s time," she determined almost sadly.

Daryl nodded, rolled himself out of the bed - stretching his body. She watched him as he picked up his clothes and got dressed again without ceremony. She couldn't help but notice again how handsome he was, from head to toe.

Carol moved her body to sit on the edge of the bed as he stood at the door, ready to leave.

"I think I'll find the door … ya don't have to get up … jus´ go to sleep. So … uhm -" he stammered.

"There is something for you on the sideboard in the hallway," she remarked quietly.

Daryl knew immediately what she meant and nodded with a half smile "A´right … so … see ya."

"See you," she said shyly, delighted.

One last look and he left the bedroom, closing the door behind him quietly. He found the white envelope on the sideboard - written with tiny black letters in a beautiful font the words

 _See you!_

A tiny smile crossed his lips.

The silence was overwhelming when she found herself alone in the bed then - between the warm sheets - warm because of him. The last conversation with him after everything which had happened should have weighed heavily on her shoulders, but she couldn't help but notice how aroused she still felt. What the hell was this man doing to her? Carol quickly made the decision to remove her underwear to help herself and felt pretty shocked and embarrassed about how soaked she was, hoping he hadn't thought it was repulsive - but he should be used to something like this - _maybe_.

When her hand found her slick and swollen folds, her touch slowly moved to the spot she needed it the most, and it didn't take her long to find release from the pressing tension which had built up because of him. Carol leaned back as the events of the evening popped up in her mind again until she finally drifted away into a salvific sleep.

When Daryl got home, he quickly took a shower to cool his heated body down, and made his way to his bedroom, putting the envelope away with the others - he didn't want them lying around in his range of vision. Maybe he was still ashamed about what he did, how he earned his money - that he sold himself like an object, because sometimes he didn't feel much human anymore.

There were a lot of envelopes in his nightstand - but he knew which one of them belonged to which woman. There were a few marbled - the ones Deanna put in his back pocket with a thankful smile when she hugged him every time he left, and a blue one from Jacqui - she always placed them on the nightstand when she waited for him at the hotel room - already in its place when he arrived.

There were still two in a light pink with lipstick prints in red - Andrea loved to put them into his boxers and he always felt like an idiot - good she's not his problem anymore!

Daryl´s nightstand was like his personal bank establishment - every time when his wage was depleted and he needed money, he blindly took one of the envelopes like he would make a withdrawal. Meanwhile he obviously had more money than he needed, but he felt more comfortable with the reserve - the small savings, and besides who knew what the future would bring?

Now there were also two envelopes in a plain white - _Carol's_.

He still felt embarrassed about what had happened - that he'd cum into her hand - and he would like to hide under the carpet if he had one - just the thought of this situation made his ears burn again. But perhaps this was really all right for her, like she'd said, and he wondered what it was about her touch which let him react so fast.

Women had touched him before - grabbing his dick or squeezing his ass became normal for him, but he really hated how Andrea had buried her nails into his shoulders in the past or slapped his ass like she wanted to spur him on.

But Carol´s touches felt different - like she wouldn't only be interested in her own pleasure - it felt like she would also care for his pleasure - care for _him._

Daryl knew he owed her something - he really wanted to retaliate against her to give her something back. He didn´t know how yet, but he would figure this out - he had to!

 _FUCK!_

When Daryl left the hotel room where he'd met Jacqui the next evening he felt like an incompetent idiot par excellence. It always ran smoothly with her, but today everything had gone awry - he just hadn't been able to make his body react like it should, no matter how hard both tried it - it was desperate, he couldn't get a hard-on. He'd tried to explain himself, and told her something about being stressed and that it wouldn't happen again, but he knew she had been disappointed - he'd felt it. Daryl felt embarrassed to his bones, but nevertheless had gotten her off and she'd acted quite understanding - but he'd felt like shit that he couldn't give her what she needed.

For sure it was a mistake that he'd accepted another appointment just one day after he'd already had one, but he hadn't expected to shoot all his powder at his meeting with Carol. Maybe it would've been better if the appointments would´ve been in a different order, so Jacqui could've used his virility and he wouldn't have made a fool out of himself with Carol - nice idea, but it was already too late. He wasn't twenty anymore, so he had to plan his appointments more carefully - you live and learn!

It seemed to become a habit that Carol called Glenn Rhee on Tuesday to make an appointment with Daryl for the end of the week. Their appointments were something she was able to look forward to and maybe it was her highlight of the week and helped her to get through her daily work routine more easily. Carol also needed time to let the impressions get settled - the weekend gave her the perfect excuse to do this.

But something was weird about the phone call this time, when Mr. Rhee asked her in a serious tone if she was pleased with her choice and if Daryl had performed his job well. She answered his questions in the affirmative, but an awkward feeling of confusion built up in her. What if Daryl´s boss learned they hadn't had sex and it would become a problem for Daryl, because their meetings wouldn´t apply as successful. _But how would he know this?_ she thought - she was being paranoid! Possibly her worries were gross exaggerations and the questions were just a part of the quality management in this agency - who knew!?


	10. Chapter 10 - Thank You!

Daryl flopped down on his sofa and ran a hand through his mussed hair, his head falling back against the cushions as exhaustion gripped him. His day had been demanding and more than a little stressful, but it had kept his mind engaged. It had been a welcome distraction from his muddled thoughts, for which he could be grateful.

Daryl had pulled some overtime today - which he didn't mind - but again, it had given him the impression Dale wasn't in the best of health anymore. The older man was still a great experienced mechanic who handed down his know-how to the younger man with enthusiasm and patience, but forty years of hard work had left deep marks on his mentor. Daryl would compensate for Dale's frailties, but he was afraid the day would come too soon when his boss would give up the business and Daryl would lose his job. And besides, Dale was a decent man who'd became more of a father to him than his own biological father - who never deserved this designation - ever could've been.

In the past, Daryl had never been a man who'd cared about something - or someone, but he just couldn´t avoid it when he calmed down. There were these thoughts about Dale and his job and these thoughts about the other job he had - in particular _Carol_. The appointment with her on Friday was already fixed and sometimes he mused if she was wondering about the fact he had nothing better to do on his Friday nights, but it was the truth - he would stick to the symbiotic relationship with his couch and the TV if he'd couldn't meet with her, or he would stay at the shop to tinker on his bike all night long - sometimes he just didn't want it to call it a day.

He'd wanted to move forward with her, because he'd felt she'd wanted to, but hadn't known how - just like him. Daryl had never had to deal with issues like hers, and there had been no one who could've given him good advice. Besides he'd never had anybody to ask something like this either.

Google had been his best friend when he had unsolvable problems with his bike, but now it had been about a woman - no less sophisticated, but with different equipment.

 _How to have sex with an abused woman?_ hadn't been the best formulation for his question he'd noticed then in horror. _Insensitive insistent asshole!_ had been the kindest answer an angry woman replied when another man had answered this question in an internet forum once. Maybe Daryl would have to change the focus and try to see the issues from the other side. _How did women feel about sex after rape or abuse? What did they want and what was a no-go? What did they need and how could a man give this to a woman without scaring her?_ Daryl had known he never wanted to see her crying again. When he'd changed the sides to put himself into her position, he'd finally made a find and got the answers he'd so badly needed.

Most of these women had finally wanted to put the victim role behind them and there was something new he'd learned - perpetrators marked the women as victims and stole their desire, so they could never enjoy this kind of pleasure again, even if these men had been unaware of it - this was one of the results. To treat a woman like that had less to do with sex, and more to do with power. Some women wrote that as long as the despicable acts would influence their life, they would always be victims, and the perpetrators would still have this power over them.

Daryl had never seen it from this perspective before, but now he understood why Carol had decided to make this step with him. She'd wanted to find liberation to recapture something which had been _hers_ \- something a sadistic bastard had stolen from her once. He'd suddenly felt so proud this brave woman had chosen him for this mission.

He'd also read the man should put the woman's pleasure first, and his own last - Daryl could do that, he'd already known everything he'd done should be about her - only her. _Patience_ \- he would never force her or move forward too fast, the pace had been hers to set. _Trust_ \- he hoped she'd trusted him, even if it had been just a spark of trust; he'd wanted to earn more of it. Maybe his patience, his will to focus on her, and the time would do their work on this. He certainly hoped so. _Love_ \- if this really would have been the crucial factor he'd already lost before the whole thing had started - that's something he hadn't been able to give her and the one thing she wasn't looking for. Daryl's thoughts had almost turned to resignation when he'd realized she must've been aware of the fact there would be no love to find in this business relationship. He'd hoped it would work without it, if he did his best on other matters.

Another point he'd also read about was, a women with these experiences would need a lot of time to allow someone to enter her body - it was a barrier the perpetrator broke without permission - against her will. Some women felt more comfortable receiving pleasure without this act and Daryl had known exactly how this worked!

There he was - lying on his sofa in his worn sweatpants - his phone in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other, with a plan in his head. That's not how heroes would look, he smirked to himself knowingly.

Carol was looking forward to the next appointment with Daryl like a curious kid on Christmas Eve. She couldn't help the fluttering sensations in her belly as the day they would meet came closer. She hadn't figured out yet what it was - nervousness, excitement or curiosity - but it felt so refreshing. But beside all these new exciting feelings, she also had to remind herself why they met, and that it had been some kind of business - everything he did, he had done only because she'd paid him. It hadn't been him as a person Carol should look forward to, rather the things he could do - his actions.

Even when his body reacted to her in a way which made her almost feel like a desirable woman and even if she felt comfortable enough to tell him something about her past and to let him touch her without making her feel afraid, in the end none of this was real - Carol had to remind herself of this over and over again. The last thing she needed was the influence of her emotions; she couldn't let it happen - she had to take care of herself.

What happened to her in the past destroyed so much inside of her and maybe it made her feel cold and rational, or she just wanted to feel that way and there was nothing she could do about her feelings - she hadn't figured it out yet.

The fact she lost her little girl tore her heart apart in a way which had been irreparable for her whole life, and it was more than she could take. Almost worse was the way how it had happened - it still plagued her with nightmares to this day. Carol couldn't lose anyone else she cared about, and she refused to let anyone near her heart to hurt her and furthermore she never even wanted to trust a man again - it wouldn't work out well!

She would see the thing with Daryl as a business relationship on one side, easy and enjoyable on the other side - nothing more.

Daryl would be there in thirty minutes and Carol made the final preparations for his arrival - meanwhile she'd learned about him that he'd always been on time. She decided to wear jeans and a blouse in a dark red, the bustier already under it - she thought she hadn't needed the negligee anymore - Daryl had already seen enough the last time they'd met.

To put the bustier under the blouse was an unexpectedly good decision. It gave her a nice but still discreet décolletage when she let the first button of the blouse open - a fine side effect - maybe he would like it!

A quick cup of coffee, the placing of the envelope on the sideboard and a proving look into every room of her apartment - then the doorbell rang.

When Daryl was standing in front of her and she'd admired him from head to toe, she noticed how different he looked this day. Daryl shifted beneath her scrutiny, and his gaze fell on his clothes - he shrugged - Daryl still wore his worn leather vest.

"Shit!" he hissed with wide eyes.

"Oh hi! I'm also overjoyed to see you," she smiled teasingly. .

Daryl blushed like an overripe tomato and stammered "Naw … uhm … Hi … damn … I forgot t' put that thing into the saddlebag after ridin'. Hang on a sec while I go put it away."

"No, just come in, it's alright," she smiled in understanding and led him through the hallway to the kitchen, just like she'd done previously.

"You have a bike?" she asked curiously, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Yeah!" he said, avoiding her gaze.

"Alright, so no small talk this time," she grinned when her eyes fell on the vest again and she noticed a small crack on the seam near the arm.

"Uhm … there's a crack in it," Carol said, pointing to the place where the material was torn. "You've already seen it? I could … fix it if you want."

"Oh … damn … dunno how that happened … naw, don't have to fix it … not necessary."

"Come on, let me stitch it up … it's not a great effort," she smiled when she headed to the living room, reaching into a small closet to get her sewing kit.

He followed her, shaking his head as she sat down on the sofa with her sewing things in one hand, the other waving at him to give her the vest.

"Ya don't have t'," he insisted, still thinking he could keep her from stitching his vest - in vain!

"Give it over, and sit down … it will only take a moment," she demanded bossily with a mischievous grin.

Finally he reluctantly gave her his vest and Carol inspected it.

"Angel wings? I hope you're not flying too fast on your bike … you need to take care of yourself," she said, caring about his welfare.

"I guess I have nine lives … should've already died a couple o' times," he snorted.

"So … you're not the only one with nine lives here," she said seriously with a tiny smile.

He gave her a questioning glance, but he decided to say nothing more - just like her.

Daryl sat down on the chair next to the couch in remorse to watch her doing her task carefully. Carol sat on the sofa cross-legged as her tiny fingers put the needle in and out of the fabric skillfully, his eyes falling on the delicate valley between her breasts. Daryl let his eyes wander further down where the material rested between her legs - _damn!_ His blood quickly headed into the direction of his groin and his member twitched. Was he a goddamn pervert? The woman in front of him was sewing his vest and he had nothing better to do than ogle her this way? Besides - there was nothing arousing about sewing; there shouldn't be anything about it which should make him react like this. When she looked up to him with those bright blue eyes, she just made it harder for him.

"Are you alright?" she asked with a kind smile when she noticed he'd suddenly stopped watching her to examine the wallpaper.

"Uhm … yeah … I'm fine," he said nervously, biting his thumbnail.

Carol hadn't known what to think, sometimes his behavior seemed awkward to her. "I'm done! I think now you almost can't see where the crack was … it's not obvious," she said proudly and gave him the vest.

Daryl slowly took it from her to inspect it and noticed, she had done this very well. "Thanks … wasn't necessary … but thanks, it's great," he murmured shyly.

"You're welcome," she grinned.

"How did ya learn that?" he asked curiously.

"My mother did her best to make me a good housewife … some things you don't forget," she admitted.

"Maybe you could also do me a favor?" she asked shyly.

"Sure." Suddenly a light mischievous grin built up on his face, as if he knew what she meant.

"Uhm, no … not like that … I mean … not only … crap! Just come with me and you'll see," she said, blushing in a lovely pink.

He hadn't thought she would lead him into her bathroom - this woman was always able to surprise him. Carol's gaze fell on the washing machine which was standing askew almost in the middle of the small room.

"The suppliers delivered it two days ago … they just put it close enough to the wall so I was able to hook it up with the aid of Google … but it's still not in the right place. I can't move the heavy thing … not even an inch … I asked them to, but they said they are too busy and have no time," she explained with a half smile.

"Assholes! Tell me where ya need it t' stand and I'll move it there," he said with a nod.

Daryl barely needed a minute with his strong versed arms to save the day, and Carol almost couldn't believe her eyes that the heavy washer looked so much lighter when he touched it.

"Thank you so much! I would never have managed it on my own," she said, grateful.

"Pfff … ya don't have t' thank me for stuff like that." Daryl almost looked like a schoolboy when her words reached him.

"Why not? You helped me … like I helped you," she added in confusion.

"Naw … it's nothin'," he said as he nibbled his thumbnail.

Carol knit her brows. "Ok, let's try again … thank you."

"Uhm … yer welcome …" his words almost a whisper.

Still confused about their conversation, Carol winced and headed to the door. "I'm an awful person … I haven't offered you anything to drink yet," she said, indignant but smiling as she ran her hand through her hair and made her way into the kitchen - her gaze asking him to follow her.

He watched her leave the room and shook his head - this woman was always on the move to busy herself - she needed to relax!


	11. Chapter 11 - Connected

**Notes: :) I can't answer my reviews, can I? :)**

 **Thank you for the lovely reviews so far and for reading and liking my story - It's my first story and I hope you keep hanging on!**

 **Thanks and Greetz :)**

Daryl slowly stepped into the kitchen and watched Carol grab two small bottles of Coke from the fridge. She quickly moved to the kitchen counter, her back to him as she opened them, her movements slowing down as she heard his footsteps come to a halt.

"There you are." She gave him a short glance over her shoulder to find his eyes as he stepped closer, and she could feel the heat from his body despite the space he'd left between them as he watched her play with the opener.

"Relax, ya always in a hurry," he said quietly as he placed his hand on her shoulder to let it trail the length of her spine, his knuckles finding each ridge and dip. His movements were slow, calming, and he could see some of the tension bleed off of her.

"I'm trying," she said with a smile, putting the opener on the counter, but she still hadn't turned around.

Carol could already feel his breath on her neck as he came closer, now both hands traveling along the sides of her back as she leaned into his touch.

Daryl kissed her neck gently as his hands intensified their touches and wandered to her waist.

A small moan from her gave him the acknowledgment he'd been on the right path . He lightly pressed himself into her and caressed her hips and along her belly, but didn't dare to let his hands wander further up or down.

Carol felt his arousal through their layers, and she turned slowly, hesitantly to face him. For a blink of an eye, the urge to kiss him almost won against her acceptance about his rules - she knew _the rule_ , so she didn't dare to break it. _What would he do? Would he kiss her back? Would he pull away? Would he become upset or angry?_

As if he knew what was flowing through her mind, he seemed to swerve away, his mouth traveling along her neck to the valley of her breasts, every inch a kiss. They melted into each other as he seemed to cover her whole upper body with his passionate touch. He pressed his groin into her lower belly, feeling her rising heat against his arousal. Suddenly overwhelmed by his own needs and afraid of pushing too far, he eventually released her and took a step back, his breathing harsh as he found her inquisitive eyes on him.

"What is it?" she asked in confusion.

"I … I'm sorry … I hadn't wanted t' wedge ya in like that," he admitted in shame, chewing the inside of his cheek, running his hand over his flushed face.

Carol pressed her lips into a thin line and ran her hand through her hair until she dared to speak. "Will it always be like that? Will you always be afraid to … to scare me?"

"Never want t' see ya like that again … ya know … when we first met," he admitted sadly as his eyes connected with hers.

"I wasn't scared of you … the memories scared me and I was too tense to tell you in time to slow down … it wasn't your fault," she said calmly, averting her eyes and taking a deep breath before she could meet his intense stare once more.

"And the last time … it was also t' much … it's so strange with ya … most o' the time I dunno what t' do" he hissed, his voice almost desperate.

Carol's hand reached for his and he took it, letting her draw him closer to her as she ran her other hand through his shaggy hair. "It wasn't too much," she insisted. "I gave you the right sign at the right time … I wasn't scared."

He nodded slightly and felt the urge to look away, but she cupped his cheek to hold his gaze.

"I don't want you to be afraid to scare me and I don't want you to think I would reject you when … _if_ I'm not ready."

"I wanna try … but I can't help … _it_ , ya know?" he said quietly as he looked down to the bulge in his pants, raising his eyebrows in embarrassment in case the scarlet tint to his cheeks wasn't enough.

"I like it … I think I would be unhappier if it didn't happen," she smirked. "And I like it when you … when you touch me … I'm still a woman and I want you to see me as one," she said with a soft voice as she focused on his warm eyes.

 _Gawd, yeah ya are!_ "A'right … so -" He didn't know what else to say.

"So … would you go with me … to the bedroom?" she asked.

"Do I have t' wait outside again?" he asked mindful of their last meeting .

She shook her head and took him by his hand to lead him there. They'd just closed the door when the atmosphere slowly heated as Carol found her confidence again, helping him to shed his clothes until she could admire his well-formed shape again - still covered by his boxers and undershirt.

When she was done, her gaze met his in anticipation. "Don't you want to take my clothes off?" she asked with a mischievous grin.

 _Ya have no idea!_ "Sure," he whispered as his body sought hers again, his deft fingers unbuttoning her blouse, eager to explore new territory.

It was the first time Daryl had seen her without a needless layer, though she still wore a layer too much for his taste - the bustier which she wouldn't give up, he reckoned. But he should be glad about the step she made and the new skin he was allowed to explore, just like the new spark of trust she gave him.

When the blouse found its place on the floor, he let his hands wander tenderly along her form, worshipping every inch he could reach. Eventually, he took her in his arms and held her, feeling her body pulsating against his. He cradled her cheek as his lips traced tiny kisses along her neck to the sweet point behind her ear.

Their hips met again and she felt the need build up in her core, excited to feel how hard he was because of her. She wondered if today her body would win over her fears and let it happen, anxious to satisfy this unfamiliar hunger in some way.

Carol let her hands glide along his neck to his arms, doing a little exploring of her own as she eventually traveled to his lower back to reach under the fabric he still wore, eager to feel his warm skin.

Daryl winced, gently moving her hands back to his chest. "Maybe ya could … lay down," he quietly requested. Carol almost forgot then, that he'd pulled her hands away, doing as he'd asked and lying down slowly as she waited for him.

He followed her and settled against her on his side, their bodies reaching out to one another, almost intertwined with each other. Daryl's hands wandered gently over every inch of exposed skin he could reach - now courageous enough to caress the valley of her breasts he'd adored so much before. It felt so soft beneath his palm.

She saw Daryl's eyes change into narrow dark slits as he touched her, their foreheads pressed to one another as if they needed the contact, erratic breaths abandoning their lungs, uncontrolled. Carol focused on his lips, slightly parted like hers, almost an invitation, but she wouldn't dare to make this move, closing her eyes and letting her teeth sink into her lower lip almost in despair when the need to cover his mouth with hers became too strong.

Daryl felt her hand on his hard cock, pushing buttons he'd never thought he had, his boxers doing him no favors; it was just too much right then. He'd allowed her to touch him before, but he had a plan and he'd promised himself his own needs wouldn't been on the agenda today.

Carol felt his hands gliding all over her in a sensual dance, soft touches with rough hands, an overwhelming mixture she almost couldn't bear anymore. From time to time he let his hands trail lower to her almost core, every contact a sweet shock.

He released her, and touched the button on her pants, a spark of suggestion to open them, but before he had the chance to wait for her consent, she opened the button herself and both made quick work of the annoying garment.

There she lay on the bed like half of an unwrapped gift as he sat next to her legs, pressing a kiss on her knee. He mapped her velvet skin with his lips along her inner thigh, and searched for her big azure eyes.

"I wanna try somethin'," he whispered, eyes dark, slowly placing his hand near her mound to make her hiss in anticipation.

"Wanna … kiss ya there … may I?" he asked, eyes almost pleading, his voice a hopeful whisper.

Carol's mouth fell open, followed by her eyes. No one had ever done this for her before, and certainly not without a reason. She wasn't afraid she wouldn't like it, but rather the thought he wouldn't like the way she tasted. Did he think he had no other choice in the matter due to his job? Was this one of the requirements he was forced to fulfill with all his clients? The first time since she'd first met with Daryl, she could feel dread building up within her. What if she was no better than Ed, taking pleasure from oral sex when her partner was unwilling? In the past, she'd done it for her husband because she'd felt a sense of duty to please him, secretly praying if she satisfied him there would be less pain from their coupling, the safety he'd promised her. Without him, how would she be able to handle her life. He'd always claimed she'd be nothing without him.

"You shouldn't do this" she said shaking her head, her eyes filled with trepidation. .

Daryl slowly moved to the middle of her body and lightly pressed a kiss on the soft skin between the bustier and her panties. "Lemme do this for ya," he almost begged in a whisper.

"You don't want this … and I don't want you to do something you don't want … just because…-" she stammered.

Daryl interrupted her as his gaze pointed to the bulge in his boxers. "Does that look like I don't wanna?" he asked with a small grin.

"Ok … but you will stop if it's too bad … promise me!" The sorrow in her eyes dispelled a bit, but she still wasn't sure.

"Relax … try it." Daryl smirked as he kissed all along the smooth skin next to the triangle of silk between her still closed legs.

Carol nodded slightly and Daryl unbent to kneel beside her legs, pulling his thumbs under the strings to finally remove the material, to explore a new territory. She raised her hips in acceptance and held his gaze to keep the contact. Maybe she hoped he wouldn't look at something else if she would keep holding his eyes like that.

When Daryl shifted himself between her shaking legs she couldn't help squinting; the image of the man between her legs was just too awkward.

"Hey, are ya with me?" he asked quietly as he finally found his desired position.

"Mmhmm," she mumbled and finally dared to open her eyes carefully.

"Ya smell good," he grinned, inhaling deeply.

Carol let out a shocked breath and quickly hid her face behind her hand in shame - _oh god!_ "You can't be serious!" she finally groaned.

Daryl smirked and clasped her thigh to eventually place his hand on her belly. "Lay ya hand over mine," he requested calmly.

"Why?" she asked in confusion.

"Wanna make sure ya with me … that we're … connected or somethin', ya know?" he explained.

Carol nodded and tentatively placed her hand over his with a shy smile, nervously waiting for what he would do then.

Daryl's other hand fondled the soft curls on her mound as he kissed her inner thighs all over - there was no inch he left unexplored . He felt her warm palm, sweaty against the surface of his hand and with every kiss, his lips came closer to her center. _Damn, she really smelled good!_ Tiny kisses covered her heated folds until he became courageous enough to let his tongue glide all over her wet core in one slow move. She winced and hissed, her body trembling under him as she squeezed his hand, the other already grabbing the pillow behind her.

Daryl watched her as he let his tongue glide along her velvety wetness, reading her face attentively, but he found no rejection. Her eyes were closed as she seemed to trust his actions.

Carol was surprised by the foreign sensations, but it felt so good, like nothing she had ever felt there before. She needed to relax, to accept the pleasure he was willing to give, and calm her body to receive it completely.

Daryl knew how to do something like this, but there was also something else. He felt almost lost in her scent and the feeling of her tender flesh as he drank her in, noticing her swelling and flowing against him. He just couldn't help his heartbeats striking under his chest erratically and his own heat building up in his body. He eventually took the soft bundle of nerves between his lips and began to suck in a slow but steady rhythm, one hand still on her belly while the other held her hip to keep her close.

Daryl felt her body relaxing under him, almost melting into his mouth. The small moans which escaped her lips assured him of her enjoyment, her eyes still closed when he gazed up at her.

There was nothing Carol could do to quell her sounds. She'd never thought she could be vocal like this. She dared to open her eyes - just for a little bit - to see him acting almost passionately between her legs. They were spread wider than before and she wondered how it had happened, but the feeling of his mouth against her wiped all the sorrows of shame away.

The image of him she dared to see, the smacking sound of his lips, the little moans which also escaped him and the vibration of those sounds against her core were already too much as her body lost control and the heat built up in her lower belly.

Daryl finally felt her pressing against his mouth, mentally patting himself on the back for thinking to research what he could to bring her to her peak. He followed his instincts, feeling her body call out to his as he brought his tongue into play with more pressure, his tongue painting circles around her clit, her breathing becoming heavy and erratic.

Now her hips were rocking against him and her body trembled out of control squeezing his hand almost painfully as she let her head fall back to burrow into the pillows. Her body tightened, her thighs quivering around his head, her mouth frozen in a silent scream. He kept his rhythm at first and only slowed down when he felt the shocks drifting through her body as she slowly came back from the place where she'd disappeared before.

Daryl's mouth released her with one last reverent kiss to her clit, trailing lower to leave tiny kisses on her thighs. He hadn't wanted to leave her too suddenly. But when he felt her body pulling back and the sound of her whimpering, he dared to move to her - he had to know if she was okay.

"Are ya a'right?" he asked her carefully as he positioned himself next to her

"I … I think so… oh god … that was uhm … mind-blowing!" she stammered with a shaken muffled voice as she laid on her side with her face almost sunken into the pillow.

"Damn … come here," he said when he saw her wet eyes, acting on his gut instinct and taking her in his arms.

Carol buried her heated face into the crock of his neck as he held her; there was nothing sexual about this, just the need to feel close to him.

Daryl felt proud as hell he'd been able to give her this, just as she'd found the courage to allow him to do this. Now, her warm body melted into his and calmed down slowly. A small smile built up on his lips as he found himself in this awkward but nevertheless enjoyable situation. He couldn't remember if he'd ever felt like this. When her body relaxed again, he released her to meet her gaze, happy to find the pleased smile on her face.

He tenderly caressed her upper arm as she lay against his side, their bodies still so close as they eyed each other.

Carol's hand reached for his cheek to glide along his soft stubbles. She quietly couldn't believe what had just happened.

"Thank you," she whispered quietly with an almost mischievous grin.

"Yer welcome," he snorted shyly, amused until both lost themselves in a light giggle.

They remained like this for a while, staring at each other. Their hands glided over one another in soft touches until his fingers inspected the material of the bustier he hated so much right now, and eventually his mouth worked faster than his head.

"It's really pesky … so … why do ya wear this?" he whispered curiously, but as carefully as he could, afraid he'd gone too far with this question, regretting he wasn't able to take it back. Daryl knew, women exaggerated their self-doubts sometimes - mostly stretch marks or the signs of aging - but he didn't mind. Daryl wouldn't mind anything about her body. From what he could see there was nothing to be ashamed of - quite the contrary!

Carol eyed him in embarrassment until she dared to open her mouth.

"I … I have scars … I won't take this off," she said shyly but resolutely, avoiding his gaze.

Daryl knew immediately he had gone too far with his question, but he could also feel the loss of control over his facial features.

She had scars - just like him.


	12. Chapter 12 - Scars

**Chapter notes: Trigger Warning for violence and torture in the second part!**

Carol noticed his shocked expression immediately. She reckoned it was about the unpleasant answer she'd given him, or probably he'd been ashamed because he thought he'd gone too far with his question.

Her hand reached for his cheek again to bring his averted eyes to hers in a delicate motion - his face was pale, his eyes empty.

"It's okay to ask me, if you have questions … but you should know most of the answers I'll give you will be … awful … uncomfortable," she whispered.

Daryl cleared his throat in discomfort, but he didn't answer while he was focused on her intriguing blue eyes, which were full of warmth and honesty. His mouth opened indecisively, but he just hadn't been able to find the right words … if there would've been anything right he could say in a situation like this.

"You don't have to see them … they are hidden … just forget they are there, if it's too much for you," she said calmly. She wanted him to talk again, to react, and she also needed to disperse this uncomfortable situation and stared pointedly at his undershirt.

"So … what do you hide? An ugly tattoo or something … a sin of your youth?" she teased with a mischievous grin.

Daryl snorted until he eventually opened his mouth. He would have to speak, no matter what.

"Somethin' I'm not proud of … " he avoided her eyes again.

"A tattoo?" she asked with curious eyes.

"Uhm … two … two tattoos," he whispered, his eyes searching for the clock on the nightstand, a silent plea for salvation. "It's time … I have t' go," he admitted anxiously, quietly relieved time was on his side. Daryl released her then and immediately left the bed to get dressed again as fast as he could.

Daryl hadn't lied to her, it was the truth. He had two ugly tattoos on his back he'd gotten when he was young. It had been an attempt to fight his demons with other ones - his brother's buddy made them once, but the end result had been a disaster. He should've known it!

Carol had felt his obviating rejection when he left her side in a hurry. She hid her body under the blanket and kneeled on the edge of the bed as she watched him. She regretted her honest answer now - some people just couldn't deal with something like this. She should've lied to him - that probably would've been the best decision. But _why_ she couldn't baffled her. She had been good at telling stories once, when people asked uncomfortable questions about her bruises and broken bones. In the past she'd told those stories - because these people were children, and children liked stories - even if they couldn't stand to hear the truth. _Just tell them a story they want to hear._

Carol hadn't known what it was about him, but she hadn't wanted to lie to him. She felt an innate need to be honest with him. Now, she couldn't even trust her gut instinct, and she'd been so sure he could handle it.

When Daryl was ready to leave, Carol gave him a sad glance and laid her hand on the empty place next to her. "Please … sit with me, just for a moment?" she asked shyly.

Daryl still tried to calm down as he nodded and eventually took a seat next to her.

"Are we … alright?" she asked fearfully and let the back of her hand drift over his arm in a gentle caress.

"Uhm … yeah … we're a'right … don't worry," he tried to say in as relaxed a manner as he could.

Carol eyed him for a moment with a half smile and ran her hand slightly through his soft hair as she bent to him to brush his cheek gently with her lips - a hint of a kiss. "See you," she added as she found his eyes again.

Daryl tried not to stir by this sudden impact, but his body felt like it was on fire, and every part of him wanted to leave this place straight away to get out of this awkward situation. He tried to hold his shit together and swallowed hard. "See ya…" he replied quietly as he stood up and headed to the door.

One last glance to the inquisitive eyes of the woman who was still kneeling on the bed, he closed the door as quietly as he could and almost forgot to grab the envelope on the side board before he left the apartment.

When Daryl finally arrived home, his body shivered from the chilly air surrounding him, a tremor shaking him despite his efforts to calm himself. It was becoming difficult to deal with this woman; she was just too much. And he didn't know how to deal with himself either at the moment. She had awoken ghosts he hadn't faced in a long time and brought back memories he'd forced out for an eternity. Now those memories felt fresh and raw, as if they'd happened only yesterday …

Daryl would never forget how he'd gotten most of his scars. Every time he remembered how he'd earned them, he also remembered the painful loss of his mother - probably the only person who'd ever meant something to him.

When he was fifteen and Merle was gone to the military, Daryl's mother finally wanted to do a good deed for her younger son. She'd saved up some money and paid for the school trip Daryl thought he would miss again - like all the others before.

Daryl was looking forward to going on this trip - to be one of them and not the leftover who stayed at school with the lower grade, while the others had a good time. They would share the fun later in conversations he couldn't join or be part of, but he was also in sorrow and afraid of leaving his mother alone - alone with his old man.

Daryl had told her he would stay; he would stay to care for her when she didn't feel well. The youngest Dixon was always a great aid when she drank too much and put herself in dangerous situations. Besides, if Daryl were there she wouldn't have to suffer the old man's rage all by herself - a beating shared is a beating halved.

"Baby, go out an´ have some fun … can take care o´ myself!" she slurred almost hysterically and gave him a wet kiss on his cheek.

"I´ll be back soon … take care o' yerself," Daryl pleaded in sorrow.

It was hard for him to enjoy the trip. He often thought about his mom and was concerned about how she was doing. While his other classmates mourned every second of the passing days, Daryl couldn't wait to get back. He just couldn't avoid thinking about her and hoping she was fine.

But his ominous premonition was confirmed when he went home alone, the evening he came back five days later. When the bus dropped everyone off at the school and his mother wasn't there to pick him up, his stomach had roiled with dread. He hadn't thought twice, leaving his things behind to race home. He had forced more speed into his gangly legs when he'd spotted several fire trucks heading in the direction of his home, because his home wasn't his home anymore - only remains. When he arrived at his house, he could only see the familiar outlines of it - unstable like a house of cards, black in black and almost invisible behind the dense smoke. Suddenly, his father was standing next to him, his face a mixture of anger and desperation. The look on his old man's face made words unnecessary. _She was in there!_

Daryl´s often found his mom piss drunk in her bed with a burning cigarette, and sometimes he came just in time to prevent the worst from happening, but this time her savior hadn't been there - HE HADN'T BEEN THERE! .

His father´s favorite drinking buddy offered lodging for the night at his trailer half a mile away then. The younger Dixon had already been familiar with the shabby place; he often picked up his daddy when he'd been too intoxicated to make it home on his own. When his father was nowhere else to be found, Daryl knew where the older Dixon wasted the income support.

There were no words spoken about what had just happened with his mother as both made their way to their shelter for the night, but Daryl didn't mind. He was numb, his throat tight with unshed tears. .

Later when his father had asked him to go for a walk, Daryl had felt slightly uneasy. - He could feel the underlying tension in his father's hulking frame, and he couldn't fathom what punishment Eli Dixon would dole out. His father wasn't one for small talk - he had never acted this way - but maybe that night he had found the right words for the very first time. Maybe they could´ve supported each other and had shared the grief. Daryl needed it so badly - he felt so lost.

Eli led the boy out of the trailer park and into the woods, still holding his silence. Daryl usually felt safe in the woods, but not this time. The eerie quiet and the darkness scared him for the first time and his bad feeling should have been a warning for what would happen next.

When his father suddenly brought his son down, Daryl's face hit the cold dirty ground hard and he knew there would be no escape. The man ripped his shirt off and Daryl didn't even try to defend himself, choosing to wait with quiet resignation. There was no hint of strength in his body and nothing to fight for either.

Daryl knew, at that moment, nothing could hurt more than the loss of the only person who'd ever given him a warm hand and affection. The expected pain would be a welcome distraction, a debt paid with his own flesh for failing his mother.

Daryl had focused on remembering the better times, when his father had held a steady job and his mom had told him stories on their way back home when she picked him up from school, or when she'd cut his hair on the porch in the warm summer breeze. He'd always told her he hated it, but in the end she had always found a way to convince him, and he'd sat there with a light smile unable to stay mad at her. Daryl hadn't noticed when they'd changed positions and he had become the one who cared. Tt had happened gradually, slow and sneaking.

These good times had been gone for a long time, but sometimes when he and his mother talked about them, the grey memories almost became colorful again. As long as she would remember, he had a reason to fight … for _her,_ and the hope his life would get better - someday.

Daryl heard the familiar rattle of the belt buckle, but he didn't dare to stir. This would´ve only made things worse - if it was even possible in this never-ending nightmare.

"Useless piece o' shit!" His father barked in anger, spittle flying from his mouth as he positioned himself next to his son to begin his torture on him.

The younger Dixon heard the scourging sound of the belt and felt the cold metal riving his flesh; he could taste the crud in his mouth - scrunching between his teeth. The piercing pain made its merciless way through Daryl´s whole body. His eyes were narrowed slits, enabling silent tears to course over his pale, bloodless face - it was deathly silent - except for the clicking of the belt buckle, the sounds of the woods, and Eli's enraged breaths until his voice rose again.

"Ya should´ve been there! Even for this shit ya ain´t good enough … should've smashed ya ugly head in when ya came out o´ her, ya little bastard! All ya had t' do was keep an eye on her!"

Daryl only heard his daddy's yelling and felt the warmth of his blood running over his back which eventually flowed under his stomach to drip to the dry loam of the forest floor. He couldn't see in the pitch blackness of full night; he just heard the sound of those heavy worn boots he was so familiar with, and felt the dust burning his watery eyes. He heard him striking out wildly, followed by the feeling of the indescribable pain in his body - again and again.

Daryl hadn't known if he laid there for minutes or hours, nor did he notice how often the belt hit his flesh, but at one point, he couldn't feel anything at all when the numbness in his body redeemed him from his father's anger - but he was still able to hear him.

"Ya wasn't worth the bad fuck I gave her t' conceive ya, ya feckless son of a bitch!"

The hard edges cut his skin to the bone over and over, merciless until the blessed relief of oblivion came over him and he passed out.

Daryl woke up to the cold ungraciousness of the dawn - his blood dried on his skin and soaked into the dirt - and dragged himself back to the trailer. Every step sent a vibration through his whole body which led to sharp aches which tormented every nerve in his body.

There was no one to find at the squalid place, an eerie silence in solitude, but it was agreeable to him.

Daryl went back to school some days later, his shirts still bonded on his back. Every time he tried to change, he had to raise the shirt up one raw inch at a time. At one point the infection in his back made him so weak he hadn't even been able to stand on his feet anymore and so he broke down in the hall of the school under everyone's curious eyes.

When he woke up at the hospital, a doctor asked him if it was the truth that he'd fallen into a fence, like his old man had told the police officers, but Daryl said nothing. He said nothing to no one for a long time. His wounds healed, his flesh mending slowly and painfully, but the pain in his heart grew and his soul became silent.

That had been how his daddy had ended up in jail, and Daryl had been sent to a children's home where he'd remained until he'd turned eighteen. He'd been taken in by Merle, but after being surrounded by rowdy boys and screeching girls, he'd longed for solitude where even his brother's company was too much for him.

He would never forget how he'd earned those scars - the story was still written all over his back. It was the haunting story about how he'd let his mom down and how he had paid for it.


	13. Chapter 13 - Sudden Decisions

Some days later, Carol's thoughts still revolved around the evening with Daryl - an unsettling up and down in her head - which made her nearly lose herself in her thoughts. The little conversations they'd had gave her the feeling she'd learned more about the man - and the confusing fact he hadn't been able to accept a 'thank you' and how shy he had been still surprised her. It almost felt like she had taken the lead at some point. He might have been sure about what he was doing in the bedroom, but every other situation gave her the impression his other interactions seemed difficult for him to handle.

Carol still hadn't been sure what to think about his whole appearance. What about him was real, and what was the obscure mask he put on for his clients? Someone with a job like this would have to separate himself from what he was doing, for sure - otherwise he wouldn't be able to do this, would he?

Carol had known what it meant to distance herself from the job. While she had always talked about her past matter-of-factly with the women she'd mentored, to bring them to their senses; she had avoided it to talk about her bad experiences to people in her personal life. She hadn't wanted to scare them away - men in particular. _No one wants to piece together a shattered cup!_

While the appointments with Daryl slowly but steadily became part of her personal life, they had still been a job for him - she should've been aware of this fact.

Sometimes Carol had thought she'd been able to look behind the curtain, to lift the mask for a blink of an eye - but she hadn't been sure what she had really seen behind it - it was still too dark to see clearly.

He had escaped in a hurry, like someone or something had haunted him and she still couldn't put a finger on his behavior - probably he hadn't known how to deal with her or how to react, so he had left the awkward situation quickly.

And there were the things he'd done - things she had allowed him to do - before he ran away and she felt that fluttering sensation in her stomach again as the images appeared in her mind like a film.

Carol had been able to relax and eventually to let go and it had seemed to arouse him, too - almost like he had also enjoyed it, or he'd been a good actor and it just had felt like this for her. _Goddammit, she wasn't able to figure him out!_

And he'd held her hand while he did and then he'd held her when she felt too overwhelmed afterwards - putting the shattered pieces of her together after she'd fallen apart - she couldn't remember when she'd felt so safe before, _if_ she had ever felt like this.

Carol's thoughts ran around in circles, making her dizzy, when suddenly her ringing phone brought her back to reality.

 _Tobin_ \- again. What did he want from her and why couldn't he leave her alone? He had tried to call her from time to time to ask her what he'd done wrong, and he would try make it up to her - to make it better - if she would give them both another chance.

The first times he'd called her; she'd tried to bring him to his senses and told him as gently as possible, that this door was closed, but he hadn't stopped calling her, and she was beginning to get frustrated that he wouldn't leave her alone. Carol decided to answer his call one more time, but he was going to see it was a mistake as her patience was at an end … and so was any kindness she might have harbored towards him.

"Hey, Tobin," she snarked dryly as she held the phone to her ear.

"Hi Carol … thank you for finally answering my call." he said surprised at hearing her voice.

"Why are you still calling me? I've asked you repeatedly to STOP! … I'm tired of this … so tired. Please … please leave me alone; there's nothing left to say," she said with unflappable composure.

"Carol … I know … you don't want to talk to me … but it's important!" he said hurriedly, his tone serious, before she could hang up on him.

"What is so important?" she asked, clearly irritated.

"The wedding … you know, it's in three weeks, and we should find a … a solution."

 _Shit! The wedding!_ "You still want to go?" _He can't be serious,_ she thought.

"We're invited, so yes … we should go."

"Tobin … they invited me and a plus one … they invited you, because we were together … but we're not together anymore," she snapped coldly

"Eugene and Olivia are two of my best employees at the police department and we became friends… they would've invited me anyway."

 _In your dreams! Who wants to celebrate the most beautiful day of one's life with their own boss!?_ She mused to herself. Carol took a calming breath before she dared to speak "I won't go with you … there is no 'we'!" She made it clear.

"Carol … you would go alone … I would go alone … we could go together … like friends. No one should be alone on a day like this," he pleaded, his words almost desperate.

"I won't go alone!" In the heat of the moment, the words had just slipped out of her mouth without a warning and she regretted them immediately. _Oh god, what did I say?_ Carol winced and threw one hand up to her head in horror.

"You won't go alone … you have someone? Did I hear you right? That was fast!" he sputtered, a bit shocked.

"I owe you no explanation, Tobin … do what you want … I don't care."

Without waiting for an answer, Carol hung up and plunked the phone almost too hard on the table with a loud clank. She ran her hands over her face in horror as she felt the panic inside of her building up - _goddammit, what next?!_

Daryl was tense - a feeling which had built up after the evening with Carol and hadn't died down over the weekend, but now it was leading into another direction as his work week began. The atmosphere in the shop on this day seemed dejected and it had nothing to do with the fact that it was Monday.

While Daryl had welded an exhaust pipe, he could see out of the corner of his eye - despite the protective goggles - that Dale had called Dwight into his office. The time had come - Daryl felt it.

The door opened again after ten minutes and the blonde lanky guy left the office with sluggish steps - looking like a beaten animal. He came straight in Daryl's direction, giving his co-worker an icy look and Daryl had ceased his task immediately.

The noise from the welding machine, which had always made his ears numb for a moment, made it hard for him to hear, but he'd been sure - the skinny guy's mouth had formed the words " _now you"_ as his empty eyes had pointed to the office.

Daryl moved his shaky body to his boss' office with severe trepidation - sure there would be some serious words spoken in the small room.

Dale welcomed him with a serious smile and gestured to the chair. Daryl took a seat and tried to act as prepared and relaxed as possible as he'd leaned back, his arms resting on the armrests as he waited for his boss to speak **.**

"So, Daryl … I guess you noticed the decline of my … physical condition over the last months, didn't you?" the old man asked with raised eyebrows as he smiled warmly.

"I did." Daryl slightly nodded as his eyes avoided Dale's gaze to fix the ancient master craftsman's certificate on the wall behind the old mechanic's desk.

Dale turned around to find out what had held Daryl's attention and grinned proudly until he finally found the younger man's eyes.

"Lord … I've been scrambling under every goddamn type of car, which has been built in the last forty years … but I'm not planning to lie under cars until I take my final ride … lying _in_ the back of one." Dale grinned knowingly at his last words.

Daryl had wanted a full-time job so badly, with which he would have been able to earn enough money to quit the other job. He would give the escort business up immediately, if he could have the chance - but now, he knew, there would never be a chance at all - not for him.

Daryl bit the inner side of his cheek and said nothing - he had already drawn up in his mind how to set out the next course of actions when he would lose the job which was his passion and his lifeblood.

Finding a new repair-shop where he had to prove himself again, or sleeping with more women, more often until he would only be a shadow of his former self in the end. Daryl leaned forward and put his head in his hands, waiting for the old man to finally speak the words - Daryl was screwed.

Sure - the image of Daryl had popped up in Carol's mind when her words had left her mouth before her head had worked out the consequences of what she had just said. Would he go with her to a wedding - especially after all that had happened on their last appointment? Do escorts offer a _service_ like this?

Escort agencies often served their business as an _accompanying service_ \- but everyone knew it was only about _one_ thing in particular. And even if he would be willing to go with her - could she make a reservation for a fixed day? She hadn't wanted to think of him like he was a table in a restaurant, but if this plan should work; she would have to see it this rational.

The questions became more frequent, the more she thought about the idea to go with him to the wedding. What would they tell people when they were asked about their relationship? How would they interact with all the people around them, and how would he act in a situation like this? And her friends - would they uncover the lie? Carol would tell Michonne, that was for sure, but it would be better if no one else knew the truth.

Carol would play happy couple with a paid man in a large hall full of cops. She had to giggle almost in a bittersweet way to herself about this preposterous idea.

If Daryl wouldn't go with her - no matter why - she would have to excuse herself with a migraine. The possibility of going alone wasn't available anymore, not after she had told Tobin she would have _company_. She would be at the mercy of Tobin and his advances all evening - too much to suffer.

But she hadn't wanted to miss out on the wedding, because at least it would be the most beautiful day of two of her friends - friends she should have been thankful for.

During her marriage, Ed had extinguished every social interaction slowly but surely, until she had been isolated completely. He always said that friends would put too many mischiefs in her head, which would distract her from what was important - her family and her responsibilities. Ed just thought about himself when he said it, but Carol didn't dare to disagree.

When Carol had the freedom and absolute control over her life, she slowly had built up a small circle of friends. It started with Rick and his wife Michonne - who'd helped her to start a new life. They'd slowly become a part of her life and introduced her to others. At first Carol thought they did it because of pity, but she eventually learned these people really appreciated her company and that she was likeable and worth it to be part of the group.

Eugene was Rick's co-worker at the police department, and how he claimed it, the clumsiest police officer he had ever met - except the remarkable ideas he had with tricky difficult cases. The bulky man with the awkward haircut solved the cases other officers had given up a long time ago for lack of evidence or hints. So it was just a matter of time before he would become more with Olivia - the good spirit of the department. She made sure everyone always had enough coffee and also enough to eat, but she was also responsible for the police archives - really a maze of the highly interesting cold cases, Eugene was willing to solve passionately.

Carol felt happy for them and it would break her heart if she had to miss their wedding - but she was on the horns of a dilemma.

"Daryl?" Dale could almost visualize the thoughts which were running through his employee's mind. "Listen to me!"

"Yeah," Daryl said distractedly in a voice almost too quiet to hear.

"I don't want to give up this shop, it's my baby … and I know you're managing almost all of my work meanwhile and … so … do you still want to have the full-time job, Daryl?" Dale asked calmly.

Daryl looked up in disbelief to meet Dale's warm gaze and needed a second to understand what his boss had just asked. "What? I thought ya … ya … damn!" Daryl hadn't known what to say.

"It's my shop and I won't give it up too easily. As long as my brain works and my ass won't hurt from sitting it flat on this chair, I will be your boss and watch you … watch your work and also Dwight's … I ask again, do you still want the full-time job?" the old mechanic asked curiously.

"I do … I want it." Daryl grinned slightly with flushed cheeks as he finally put out the words in a whisper.

"And Daryl … please try to work it out with Dwight … he's a good one … he's not your enemy. You two can work together. If this should go smoothly ... you're both hardheads, but you will _have to_ work together … I won't play the kindergarten teacher for the two of you!" Dale added seriously with a waggling finger.

Daryl would have to swallow the bitter pill which left a harsh aftertaste on his tongue, but he nodded in agreement. He had to hold his shit together, because finally luck was on his side and his life would change.

"I will … I'm tryin'!" Daryl nodded again, but this time with more self-confidence.

Dale smiled at the younger man trustingly. "Call it a day and go home, boy … tomorrow you'll have a long day." he grinned.


	14. Chapter 14 - See You?

For some nights Daryl just hadn't been able to get enough sleep. He had wriggled restlessly in bed every night since Dale had offered him the full-time job - unable to fall asleep before the dawn killed the night. He should have been more reassured now that his long awaited desire had finally come true, but he couldn't and it was slowly driving him insane.

Everything would change now, and maybe that had been the issue, which had held him up all night - he hated change - in this case a new situation which left him filled with uncertainty. What if he were called upon to make decisions? How was he to know if he was making the right choices? He'd always been great at guessing, but somehow, he didn't think it would cut it this time.

Daryl's plan - his fondest wish - was to quit his job at the agency and focus on the new opportunity Dale had presented him, but when he thought about it, thought about the clients he'd be leaving behind, the sense of remorse he felt hit him hard. How could he leave them without a word?

He had ignored all the emails Glenn had sent him for weeks when his boss asked him to take new clients - he had enough problems with the women he already had. This new situation would force him to break up the business relationship with them, and he felt quietly uncomfortable.

Jacqui would find someone else - he was sure, especially after his shoddy performance at their last appointment - but he was afraid he would disappoint Deanna. He didn't think it would be easy to find another escort for her ... if she even wanted someone else. She hated new people - just like him - and sometimes he'd wondered if this woman ever ventured from her home. Daryl had an appointment with her the next day and he felt he owed her some kind of goodbye if he would give up the business. Besides, he thought, it would have been better not to cancel the appointment - he had always been very reliable.

And then there was _Carol_ , the unmanageable woman he desperately wanted to evade. His brow knit in confusion, and he felt his blood running faster through his veins. Glenn had already sent an email with the request for another appointment with her, but Daryl just couldn't accept it and had left it unanswered until now. He had wanted to get her out of his system, out of his mind, and now he had the chance to break ties with her for good. But instead of feeling relieved, a sense of emptiness engulfed him, leaving him even more befuddled than before. Topped with the guilt he felt for leaving her - especially after the progress they'd made - only made it worse.

Daryl knew she trusted him, even if he felt he didn't deserve such a gift. Maybe her trust was some kind of honor and he should handle it more responsibly. Carol was able to allow and _also_ enjoy his closeness - his actions - and even if he'd still thought there were more than enough men to fulfill her needs, she had chosen _him_ for this mission.

But Daryl had been aware of the other side of the coin - if he continued their appointments he would also have to meet other women, too. How could he explain Glenn that he only wanted to be available for one woman? His boss would clearly assume a private interest behind it.

Daryl would have to make a decision, but maybe not straight away - he was free to quit this job anytime he wanted to, but at the moment he was sure, he needed a break - a break from Carol for a while.

Carol had sent in her request to Glenn Rhee for a new appointment earlier in the week, and on Friday she finally received an answer.

 _I'm sorry, Mrs. Peletier, but Daryl isn't available at the moment._

 _I will provide information for the possibility of an appointment as soon as possible._

 _With best regards_

 _Glenn Rhee_

The disappointment about this almost expected answer hit her harder than she wanted to admit to herself, but she assumed the events of the latest appointment with Daryl wouldn't remain without consequences.

It hadn't only been the growing uncertainty about the question if she could count on him at the wedding - she couldn't care less about it right then - but rather the question of whether or not she would _ever_ see him again, because she might have scared him away with her behavior.

And even if they shared the ' _see you'_ when he left - like they had done every time since they'd met - the words hadn't been a guarantee. But until then they had given her warmth and safety that he would be there for her again.

Maybe the words had meant much more to her, meanwhile; they had seemed to her like a hidden promise - _we will see each other again … I will come back … I'm waiting for you_.

Now the words which she had trusted in felt as plain as they were before - empty and meaningless.

Maybe Michonne would have time for her this weekend - Carol would need a good distraction.

"I'm still trying to figure you out, Dixon … what's wrong with you?" Deanna asked in confusion as she leaned against the headboard, scrutinizing Daryl's tense body with concern. He sat on edge of her bed and held his head in his sturdy hands, as if he were trying to hold something together - hold _himself_ together.

"I'm fine," he hissed coldly through his hands.

"It's not the first time it's happened … maybe we should talk," she suggested calmly.

"Naw … there's nothin' t' talk about … I'm just stressed."

"Let's go into the living room, and I'll get us something to drink," Deanna prompted, her tone brooking no objections.

"Naw, I'm gonna go," he hissed quietly as he rose from the bed and reached for his clothes to get dressed.

Deanna stood up and grabbed her dressing gown, putting it on quickly. "We still have more than an hour … come into the living room when you're done," she determined as she left the bedroom.

Daryl creased his brows - _what the hell does she want?_

When he sat on Deanna's sofa and saw her walking into the room with two glasses and a bottle of, what seemed to be very expensive whiskey, he couldn't hide the confused look upon his face.

"Naw … ain't drinkin' when I have t' drive." he said with a shaking head.

Deanna placed the glasses on the table and poured the whiskey into the heavy glasses. "I would pay for a cab … I would even pay for you to have a fucking limousine with a chauffeur if it's necessary," she grinned persuasively and sat down.

"One," Daryl breathed as he saw the hint of desperation on her face.

Both sat there in this unfamiliar situation, sipping on their glasses in silence until Deanna finally spoke. "Tell me about her," she murmured with a warm smile.

"What th' hell do ya mean?" he shrugged with an almost angry tone.

"You can tell me … I know something's happened and I'm sure it's a woman who's got you all tangled up in knots," Deanna assumed with slightly bright eyes.

"Pfff … yer wrong … l told ya there ain't nothing t' talk about!" Daryl made clear as he avoided her gaze to let his eyes wander - searching for something to change the topic, when he eventually saw a book standing on a sideboard with the cover ahead - _why would someone arrange a book like that?_

Daryl's gaze pointed to the book and caught her gaze questioningly. "What is that?"

Deanna stood up, took the book from its place and sat down on the sofa again. " _Eclairs & Chocolate Kisses_ \- I guess it's nothing you would read," she assumed.

"Why? No pictures?" he asked with raised brows.

"It's a romance novel playing in London in the 19th century." she declared as her cheeks flushed slightly.

"Yer reading shit like this?" he asked harshly.

"I'm writing shit like this," Deanna admitted with raised brows.

Daryl winced "Oh … sorry … uhm, but that's not your name on the cover."

"I prefer it to publish my novels under an alias." she added.

"Is it … uhm successful?" he asked cautiously.

"I think so … it made me a rich woman." She giggled.

Daryl grabbed his phone from his back pocket as she watched him with a questioning look.

"Google says it's a bestseller," he said quietly astounded.

Deanna snorted. "Meanwhile, I don't give a shit about the bestseller list … I don't check it anymore."

"Why?"

"It drove me crazy when I started writing … this and the expert critics, but I get the letters some readers send to the publishing company - these are my payment … and the knowledge about the fact that other authors hate me or steal my ideas." she giggled, the sound bittersweet at her last words, and dropped the book onto the table.

Daryl grinned at her in silence and he knew she would change the topic again when she looked at him sincerely.

"I don't care if we have sex or not … I can't force you into something you can't do anymore … no matter why … and I don't want to either, but I want to keep our appointments as usual. We can talk … we can drink … whatever, and you will get your money when you leave as always. Are you ok with this?"

Daryl gave her a bewildered glance "Ya wanna pay me for talkin' and drinkin'?"

"I want to pay you for spending time with me … otherwise I wouldn't see anyone else but my sons and the guy who delivers the food," she admitted. "Though the new delivery boy from 'Roma's' is mighty fine to look at."

Daryl knew Deanna had been lonely for a long time and he wasn't surprised she had chosen a job which hadn't forced her to leave the house. The brilliant rich woman in front of him was actually poor as a church mouse.

Even if he wasn't rich and even if he wasn't a successful person either, he saw himself in her sometimes and he also felt sorry for her, so he nodded.

Carol had spent her Saturday night with Michonne at the movies and drank way too much at the bar they'd ended up afterwards. It was a welcome distraction, but her thoughts were still with Daryl sometimes. It was an issue she hadn't wanted to discuss with her best friend. Even if she had always been able to talk with Michonne about everything going through her mind, Daryl was a topic she hadn't even wanted to discuss with herself. He was an escort who had rejected a client - _her_ \- and she should get over it. It hadn't been a big thing for him, so why should it be one for her? Carol had felt so pathetic for the aching pain in her chest - it felt like she'd lost something - _someone_ \- but it was ridiculous. She'd built him up in her mind, perhaps, and now she had to face facts that he was someone who'd never existed, and the connection she felt was a false interpretation, just like the hope he'd given her, a wonderful dream too good to be true.

So Carol was pretty surprised when Glenn sent an email the next week confirming an appointment with Daryl on Friday - she had been as sure as death he hadn't wanted to see her ever again. She had been impatient to meet him again and curious about how things would work after the last meeting two weeks ago, but she had also been tensed to the bones to meet him.

The closer the day came, when Daryl would have met with Carol, the more he thought about her. No matter how fast he tried to run from these thoughts, it seemed an impossible endeavor. He'd had to be available for her again and he hadn't wanted to wait much longer - he was aware of the fact that time could kill the bond she needed. The more time he spent avoiding her, the more Daryl would have had to build up the connection again to make her feel safe. He also felt remorse tighten his chest because he hadn't met her last week, and he hoped he hadn't disappointed her.

This woman was a special case, but not how Glenn had described it some weeks ago. Carol had given him a mixture of fear and affection he had a hard time dealing with, and he also had been worried he would fuck this up - that he wouldn't be good enough for her. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint her, if he hadn't done it already with his cowardice to skip the appointment with her last week.

Sometimes Daryl just wanted her to push him away. He was justing waiting for the day she would come to her senses and choose someone else; she would be better off without him.

So Daryl was a nervous wreck when he stood on her doorstep again, poised to ring the bell.

Carol greeted him with a warm smile as always and it hadn't helped him to make his condition change for the better. Daryl just hadn't known what it was, but she had made him feel much smaller than he had already felt.

"Hey, nice to see you," she said as she welcomed him shyly.

"Hey," he replied. Maybe he really had to build up what they had constructed earlier.

When they were in her kitchen and she handed him the small bottle of Coke she'd just opened, he could see her hand shaking - just like his when he took it. She took a sip until she broke the silence.

"I thought you … you wouldn't come back. Last week you weren't available ... and the last time we met you left in such a … a hurry," Carol said quietly as she bit her bottom lip and stared at him with those azure eyes.

Sometimes he was afraid she would engulf him with those eyes, so he fixated on the wallpaper again as he bit the inside of his cheek. "I … I was in a hurry … 'cause I had another client and … and I was busy last week … many clients, ya know," he lied. The urge to push her away from him was overwhelming. He hadn't known what else to say, and he had felt so uncomfortable again as her appearance and her words made him shiver.

Carol winced at what he just said as a piercing ache hit her deep into her core. "It's … it's alright … but I don't think I want to know … I don't want to know about your other clients," she stammered in a broken whisper.

"That's how it is," he said coldly as he placed the bottle on the kitchen counter forcefully. "I have other clients … yer not the only one," he added.

"But I don't want to know," she whispered, looking at him like she had never seen him before.

"What do ya think it is here, huh?" he hissed "So yer waiting for an escort to entertain ya every week? Yer bored?"

"What?" she breathed in shock.

"I'm just here 'cause yer bored and all alone … ya got no husband, no daughter … ya don't know what t' do with yerself! Ya ain't my problem … I'm not here t' save yer soul!" His voice was getting louder and his eyes changed to dark slits as he spit out the words.

"What do you know about my daughter?" she whispered the question as her eyes were already watered in shock and pain.

"The picture of the girl in yer living room … she moved out and now yer alone, huh?" he yelled.

Carol almost couldn't believe what this man had changed into and her mouth fell open until she quickly covered her expression with her hand. This wasn't the man she had met before. The stranger in front of her tried to hurt her - hurt her intentionally.


	15. Chapter 15 - Let Me Hold You

Silent tears coursed over Carol's heated cheeks, spilling from her lashes in a torrent, unable to quell the flow, his harsh words almost violent in their intensity. She'd _trusted_ him! This was the last thing she'd expected when she'd open the door to him that evening. "Is this what you wanted … to see me like this? To h-hurt me? Suddenly you don't want this anymore, or know h-how to handle me … _us_ … so y-you behave like a child and throw a tantrum? Is that who you really are, Daryl?" Her voice was broken and bitter, and a stab of self-loathing shot through her at her weakness. She leaned against the refrigerator and covered her mouth with a trembling hand to hold back a sob, hugging herself with one arm, fighting to hold herself together against the pain. His every damning word had felt like a knife to her gut.

"What do you want me to do?" he hissed, avoiding her gaze.

"You want to take everything back? Every kind and smart thing you've ever said or done?" she asked coldly, scrambling to rebuild her walls so he couldn't hurt her anymore. "Fine … take it all back, Daryl. I don't care … I've lost worse. You have _no_ idea! But you don't get to treat me like this. No one will _EVER_ treat me like this again!" Carol sought out his gaze, but he continued to stare at the floor like a chastised child, the strands of his hair hiding his expression like a curtain.

Daryl pressed his tensed body against the kitchen counter, his white knuckles gripping the countertop as though he would be able break the thing like a piece of cardboard with one move.

 _Why she hadn't slapped him, or yelled at him? Told him how repugnant he had been or at least just kicked him out? He had fucked this up in the best and most effective way, and he deserved a hard rejection. Why had he even tried it to make it right for her? Or at least right in his mind. He'd felt the need to let her go warring with his desire to make things better. He should have known he would take the easy way out. In the end he would always be the useless piece of shit he'd always been._

Daryl said nothing and he didn't dare to look at her. He was sure she was crying, and wanted nothing more than to run away and forget what he'd said to her, to forget her, but he just wasn't able to move.

Carol had known anger - how it sounded, how it felt, how it looked. In her marriage she'd become skilled over the years in reading Ed's actions. From the sound the door had made as it had fallen closed when he had come home after work, she had been able to estimate whether or not she would have to deal with a black eye or worse at the end of the day. But when she looked at Daryl's defensive posture she saw something different than anger, even if she hadn't known what it was, but his appearance hadn't scared her.

Carol slowly calmed down and took a slow step into his direction … and another … then just one step closer until she was standing mere inches in front of him. His body seemed to be on fire; she couldn't fail to notice his rapid breaths and was almost able feel his frantic heartbeat. It was more than evident in the pulse point beating below his jaw.

"Daryl?" she whispered in confusion. Something was wrong … terribly wrong. It was more than him lashing out just to hurt her. In her line of work, she'd seen it many times, recognized the signs, and knew … he was afraid. When she slightly put a wary hand on his arm, he winced and suddenly grabbed her by her shoulders. He pressed her body against his in a hasty move and pushed his face against the soft skin on her chest.

Carol startled for a blink of an eye with a quiet gasp. "Do I make you angry … or do I scare you?" she asked, almost too quiet to hear.

Daryl held her tightly and mumbled a mess of almost unintelligible words into her chest - word fragments which sounded like _shit … sorry … fuck!_ He clung to her, safe in her arms even as he feared she'd push him away.

Carol began to accept the sudden closeness and she slowly felt his body relaxing against hers. She cautiously ran her hands over his temples along his hairline, and eventually she let her fingers glide through his smooth strands as he felt his hands sliding all over her back. She didn't know what he sought … sanctuary, comfort, forgiveness or even salvation, but she knew she couldn't let him go.

Daryl hadn't known why and how he came to be in this position with her and he was wondering why she accepted his actions instead of pushing him away. He could smell her scent, feel her soft skin against his face and the pounding of her heart - the synergy calmed him down, even if he hadn't been able to explain why.

They were standing there for minutes, but neither of them knew how long exactly nor did they seem to care, until Carol placed her hands on each side of his face to bring his eyes to hers - both wearing the same confused expression.

"Who the hell are you Daryl?" she breathed.

Daryl eyes connected with hers as he opened and closed his mouth in indecision until he eventually whispered his answer. "I'm a prick … jus' like ya said … ya were right."

Carol gave a slight shake of her head and gently caressed his scalp, her nails dragging soothingly through his soft hair. She couldn't bear the pain evident on his features and rasping in his voice. "You don't have to treat me like this to push me away … you still have a choice, that's what _you_ said. So why are you still here? You could leave … it would be so easy. All you have to do is walk out the door, Daryl," she said quietly, prepared to let him go, if that was what he wanted.

 _I can't!_ Now Daryl was the one who shook his head slightly without a spoken word as he seemed to drown in her azure eyes. One hand still caressed her back, the fingertips of the other wandering gently over her cheek and the dried tracks of her tears. The tips of his fingers found her lips, eager to find out if they were as soft as they looked. He mapped the outline of her bottom lip carefully, his nose nuzzling against hers. The sudden idea to brush his lips against hers crossed his mind – but he couldn't do it, so he broke the dangerous closeness, tamping down the strange feelings welling inside him, and pressed his cheek against hers.

"I won't push you away … I know you're better than this … I can feel it," she whispered in his ear, and Daryl wasn't sure if she was aware of what he'd almost done. She was simply responding to his earlier panic, he mused.

"Maybe … maybe we can start over?" he asked quietly as she found his eyes again.

"I want to," she whispered.

Both were still fully clothed as they lay on her bed in silence. Daryl snuggled against her chest again as she held him tightly and let her hands caress his neck in comfort.

"You're better now?" she asked hopefully.

"Hmmm," he mumbled, a soothing breath escaping his lungs.

When she'd released him before from the awkward hug in the kitchen to take his hand and lead him to the bedroom, he had been sure he would fulfill her needs then, maybe to make up for what he'd destroyed. But when she'd lain down on the bed and he followed her, he'd become uncertain about her intentions.

 _"_ Would you let me hold you?" she'd asked him then, and he'd let her without asking her why. So, he'd ended up with his body entwined with hers, warm and soft, sheltering him from his dark thoughts.

Daryl allowed her closeness, the comfort she gave him and her hands in his hair making him almost purr like a cat - it felt so damn good. But maybe he felt a little too comfortable when he felt himself almost drifting into sleep. So, he quickly opened his eyes to look at her and eventually found a warm small grin upon her face.

"You're ok?" she asked and continued to stroke his hair with her gentle fingers.

"Gotta be," he admitted, blushing with a half smile, and her grin became a little bit wider at his words.

Beneath the warmth and the comfort his body and soul received from her, Daryl also felt something else in his body respond to her actions. This woman smelled heavenly and felt just too good against him, so he hadn't been able to prevent his physical arousal from building up. But he wouldn't yield to the urge to do something about it - not now and not with her. It was neither the right time, nor the right situation, so he would have to take care of it later. Daryl had been almost thankful for the distraction from his dirty thoughts when she began to talk to him again.

"Three rules …" she began, still smiling, but in a serious tone and Daryl's brows knit. "Firstly - if you want to know anything about my daughter, just ask me … like I said, the story won't be nice, but I'll tell you if you want," Carol whispered and he nodded in consent. "Secondly - I don't want to know about the other women … when you're here … for the time we spend together, I want you to be … to be mine." she added and bit her bottom lip at her last words - that was what she wanted, even if it sounded odd.

"I'm yours," he whispered shyly without thinking, and after a second he felt slightly shocked about what had just left his mouth.

"… and thirdly - if you don't want to meet me anymore, just say so … I won't break … you have a choice, anytime," she finished and he nodded again, eased that she still smiled at him.

"Do you have a suit?" Carol suddenly asked him.

"What …why?" he asked her in confusion.

"Do you have one?" she grinned.

 _Shit, no!_ The last suit Daryl remembered was an ugly hand down from Merle which he'd worn to his mom's funeral. But a man should have a suit, shouldn't he? Maybe now he would have a reason to get one. "Uhm, yeah … but why?" he asked again.

"I'm invited to a wedding the week after next … would you go with me?" she requested shyly. "I would pay as usual," she added.

"Uhm … do ya think it's a good idea … ain't the best company for a damn wedding, I think." Daryl admitted.

"Me neither, so I think we're perfect together," she giggled.

"But I think ya could find someone else, if ya ask Glenn … he has guys who would fit better," he suggested quietly.

The smile on Carol's face turned into skepticism. "I know … I'm older … but -"

"Naw, that ain't what I meant … damn …" he interrupted her. "I jus' don't want other people to wonder why a woman like ya would choose a sorry weird dude like me … ain't playin' in yer league."

"I don't care what other people think … I go with you or I won't go at all. Will the biker take the housewife to a wedding?" she asked with a mischievous grin.

"Ya ain't a housewife," Daryl snorted.

"Whatever … say yes!" she asked with the most charming look on her face Daryl had ever seen - he just couldn't resist.

"Yes!" he breathed.

Carol hugged him goodbye as they stood in the hallway and nodded in confusion when he told her, he wouldn't take the money this time. It would've felt wrong if he had taken it, he explained and she eventually accepted it.

When Daryl got home he felt out of sorts again; it seemed to have become a habit after he'd met Carol. He still felt embarrassed about his behavior and also unsettled about the fact she might have forgiven him. She was right, he would still have a choice to reject her, but he couldn't, and she could've kicked him out, but she hadn't. Carol broke his walls of phony anger down and saw what it was for real - he had been scared as hell. The fear and his temper had taken control and he'd wanted her to push him away, just like everyone else in his life had done before. Daryl had learned to keep the proper distance to scare people away so they wouldn't come too close. But no one had ever come as close as Carol and he had never felt so secure in the arms of someone. He usually avoided physical contact like this and he also couldn't remember _if_ anyone ever held him like she did - it felt like home, even if he hadn't known exactly what _home_ meant at all.

Daryl thought about her lips and his curiosity to feel them against his - another fear built up inside of him. He couldn't kiss her, he just _couldn't_. The last kiss had been an eternity ago and was a needed supplement to sex. He'd done it out of necessity, because it had been expected of him, and it had felt awkward. He'd been glad when he could add the no-kissing-thing to his rules at his job; it hadn't been unusual in the escort business.

He was inexperienced and unskilled with kissing, so it was better not to try with Carol. He didn't want to make a fool out of himself. And furthermore, if he would kiss her, she would think it meant something, whatever it might be, and would cause a whole new set of problems he wasn't ready to deal with.

He would see her again and was silently thankful for another chance - he wouldn't let something like this happen again. He would also try to be the best possible company at the wedding, even if he knew she deserved something better. He would try his best _and_ he would buy a damn suit the next week - _Lord!_

Before Daryl climbed into his cold bed, he thought about taking a shower, but eventually decided to wait until the next morning. He could still sense her scent surrounding him, and he wanted to keep it close to him for as long as possible. It was calming and reminded him how he had felt in her arms.


	16. Chapter 16 - Cursed

Silence fell heavily as the door clicked shut behind Daryl. Carol wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the sudden chill his departure seemed to leave in its wake. She dropped down onto the sofa, her knees weak as her emotions battered her, running a shaky hand over her face. The peace she'd felt having him in her arms was gone, leaving her alone and bereft as she slowly processed the events of the last few hours. They'd shared their anger and fear, and in the end had separated on good terms with warm smiles. She'd needed their time together to end on a positive note after the ensuing drama beforehand.

Carol had initially been shocked to hear his voice change, anger radiating from him as those cruel words had spewed forth from his mouth. It had made her wonder if she'd done something to upset him. She was sure his time with her was much more difficult than with any of his other clients. But had she done anything so heinous as to warrant such rage?

It had taken a supreme force of will not to shrink away from him, stomping on memories of her former life before they had a chance to take root. Instead, she'd moved closer to him, despite his rage, and studied him more carefully. The truth had been evident. He was lashing out at her due to fear, and she could see behind the mask he wore, his body betraying him with telltale signs as he trembled before her. Her compassionate loving heart had seen and she'd responded without hesitation, reaching out to him. She couldn't bring herself to fear him when she could so easily recognize his pain.

Carol had known from her own personal experience how easy it was to become overwhelmed, and no one reacted in the same manner. She'd handled her fears quite differently in the past. She had hidden her pain from curious people, not wanting to be judged. Instead of lashing out, she would paste an exaggerated smile on her face, one which looked as if someone had tacked the corners of her mouth somewhere near her ears, and then skillfully changed the subject until the nosy person became bored or distracted enough to drop it completely. Kindness instead of tears, anger instead of fear … everyone was different in how they kept someone from getting too close. Daryl had always seemed quiet and reserved, and though she knew he had a temper lurking somewhere within, she'd never expected to see it unleashed upon her. Carol sighed. Everyone has a breaking point.

Daryl's words had cut deeply, but she'd forgiven him. Yet, there was really nothing to forgive when those words had grown out of desperation. She'd recognized his behavior for what it was - a cry for help - and she had offered him comfort. But she had also made it quite clear she wouldn't allow him to speak to her in such a way again. No matter the reason, she would not suffer his rage.

Years ago, Carol had been quick to forgive, and she wouldn't have dared to say a word. Ed had punished her often, trying to beat her into submission. There had come a point when she'd begun to believe she deserved to be treated in such a manner. A lukewarm _sorry_ had given her enough reason to forgive him, hoping to do better next time, to try harder so as not to provoke his anger. He'd always apologized, explaining how necessary it was to treat her like that. _I wouldn't have to do this if you weren't so fucking dumb!_

Carol had thought, if she could be good enough, become the woman he wanted, he would treat her better. So she'd forgiven him time and time again and pretended everything would be fine. No matter how badly he treated her, or how horribly he'd hurt her, she couldn't stand the thought of losing him. At the time, Carol had been sure she would have been nothing without him, and she should be thankful he'd lowered his standards enough to marry a woman like her. _No other man will ever want an ugly useless piece of shit like you!_ Carol sucked in a sharp breath, refusing to let her past creep in to hurt her now.

She had stood up for herself against Daryl, even if she'd been understanding of his turmoil. Never again would she allow someone to walk all over her. Carol had needed years to learn how to overcome her obstacles and self-doubt, but sometimes the ghosts of her past haunted her. _No one will ever want you!_ Ed's words were still burned into her mind and written all over her body; he'd made sure she wouldn't forget them.

Losing Daryl would be difficult for her to bear. She'd come to realize that when she'd thought he'd rejected her last week. Even if she didn't depend on him as she had done with Ed, she still needed Daryl in some way. She valued the friendship which was forming between them, and she couldn't imagine never seeing him again. She wouldn't do anything to force him to remain with her, she'd promised herself. She would never lose her dignity again.

Yet she couldn't help but wonder over her burgeoning feelings for him. The way he'd felt in her arms, the warmth, his calm breaths against her skin, his scent enveloping her, and the deep little moans he'd emitted as she'd run her fingers through his soft hair … she was sure she'd been right not to push him away. In that moment with her, Daryl had seemed so real, so genuine. Could her instincts betray her that much, or had the fluttering sensations in her belly been something else? She was almost afraid to find out.

Daryl had thought working full-time was the answer to his prayers, but now he'd was having a hell of a time finding a balance. There just wasn't enough time in the day to organize his life, and it was becoming a problem. It had been more than a week, more than enough time to adjust to his new schedule, but he was still struggling to make it work. Already, he had new requests for appointments with both Deanna and Carol, a doctor's appointment for the regular check-up Glenn required, and as if that weren't enough to have his stress levels skyrocketing, he had to find time to buy a suit - _Crap!_

Daryl had asked Dale to give him a few days off. He still had days of vacation time from the previous year he hadn't used, so Dale had agreed while Dwight gave him the stink eye. Daryl didn't give a shit; he needed the time.

The next day, sitting across the desk from Dr. Greene, he was barely able to quell his anxiety. Daryl was thankful he'd already been through the examination and blood work six weeks ago, but the white-haired man wanted to discuss a few things. Dr. Greene wasn't unlikeable, was actually quite amiable, but Daryl always felt the old doctor wanted to make sure not only his body was healthy, but his mind as well. The man was no therapist, and Daryl couldn't wait until the appointment was over and he had a clean bill of health.

"The blood test is negative and everything looks fine so far, Mr. Dixon … any accidents with the protection during your job since we met six weeks ago?" Dr. Greene asked.

"Nothin' happened," Daryl answered slickly.

"Unprotected contacts or accidents with other women?" was the doctor's second question.

Daryl shook his head.

"Special life events?" the man wanted to know.

"Nope," Daryl said dryly

"Are you stressed?" The doctor eyed him questioningly.

"Ain't stressed … not more than usual," Daryl answered shortly.

"Everything is working how it should?" Dr. Greene demanded skeptically as his gaze pointed to his patient's crotch.

Daryl immediately changed his sitting posture and felt his cheeks burning. "Yeah … everything's … fine," he mumbled.

 _The shit it was!_ For weeks, his cock had been doing whatever the hell it wanted, as if it had a mind of its own. It refused to work when he needed it to, and rose from the dead when in fact it needed to shut the fuck up. Daryl hadn't needed a hard on for Carol - not at this stage of their relationship where she didn't require that part of him just yet - but, nevertheless, it happened every time he saw her. It was like he'd been cursed by her. He wondered if he fucked her someday it would stop. Perhaps that was the key to his problem. He was rather shocked at that thought, but perhaps he had to see this from a callous point of view. She was hard to get, and maybe that knowledge had woken up the hunter within him. Hunters chase the prey until it was caught, something Daryl had never experienced with a woman before. Maybe … if he could close the deal with her, he'd be able to purge her from his mind.

"You know, I'm in contact with Mr. Rhee, and he informed me you've lost two of your clients in a short period of time … two _long-standing_ clients. One of them refused to tell Mr. Rhee why she wanted another escort, yet the other was very forthcoming," Dr. Greene added knowingly, his brows raised. "And you refuse new clients … might I ask why?" he asked as carefully as he could.

Daryl took a deep breath and chewed at his thumbnail nervously. "Dunno ..." he muttered, "…maybe they needed some … some variety,"

"Mr. Dixon … Daryl … everything spoken between us is confidential. You don't have to worry it will be repeated. I've gone over the results of your tests, and your physical condition is impeccable. Perhaps there's something else blocking you," the doctor suggested in a gentle tone, trying to put his patient at ease.

"I'm fine," Daryl insisted. "Can I go?" he asked impatiently as he stood up, silently begging to leave the room and the doctor's nagging questions behind.

Dr. Greene gave up on trying to get something out of his obviously nervous patient and nodded as he held his hand out to shake Daryl's. "Maybe it's time for a change … take care of yourself," the old man said.

When Daryl left the building with the attestation in his hand, he felt relieved. Yet a shudder spiraled down his spine at the thought of losing his job. He'd been happy when Andrea had changed to Merle, and he knew it hadn't been about his performance, but he couldn't help but wonder if Glenn thought he'd failed with her too.

Until the doctor's appointment, Daryl hadn't known Jacqui had chosen another escort or that she'd confided in Glenn as to why she'd done it. The loss of two clients didn't speak highly of his performance, and he felt his cheeks burn with mortification.

He was afraid to lose his job, a fear which made a bitter smirk form on his lips. Daryl didn't need the money any longer, but if he got fired, he wouldn't be free to see Carol anymore.

He had to accomplish his mission. He was sure if he could close the deal with Carol, he could finally rid her from his mind … then he could move on and forget about her _and_ the damned escort business.

"You're somewhere else," Deanna scolded gently, not failing to notice the way Daryl idly picked at his food, lost in his own head.

He shrugged, "Naw, I'm here."

"I haven't used the stove for a long time, but it still works … maybe I'm a little bit rusty, but is it so bad?" she asked mischievously.

"Naw, it's fine … really!" Daryl tried to sound as convincing as possible.

Deanna smirked and took a sip of her wine as she studied him, eventually shaking her head.

"Do ya know a good shop to buy a suit?" Daryl suddenly asked.

"That's what you're thinking about, Dixon? You don't have a suit, but suddenly you need one?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah, I need one … not too expensive, but not too cheap … decent, ya know? Yer looking like someone who knows where t' get … stuff like that." he said dryly.

Deanna's smirk morphed into a grin as she deliberated. "If Eric and Aaron still manage their little men's outfitter, you could find what you need there. They advised Reg pretty well, and they have a nice selection. For which occasion do you need one?"

"A damn wedding," Daryl practically snarled without thinking. His eyes closed as he cursed silently, knowing his slip would only pique Deanna's curiosity and she would grill him relentlessly on the subject. _Too late! Fuckkkk!_

"A _damn_ wedding? I guess it's not your own," she giggled. "So you will accompany _someone_? Maybe _she_ could help you to find a nice suit," she suggested slyly.

"Ain't that easy … can't ask her …" he admitted.

Deanna chuckled in amusement, enjoying their banter. "It doesn't sound as though you want to go to this wedding, and you don't even have a suit," she teased. "… nor can you ask your girlfriend for help. Why do you even want to go with her?" she asked, confused.

"Don't wanna … I have to," he mumbled. "And she ain't my girlfriend … pffft … she's a client and I couldn't say no …" Daryl stammered nervously.

Deanna immediately noticed the treacherous blush building up upon Daryl's cheeks and her eyes went wide. "Oh my god," she threw a hand over her mouth in surprise, "She's a client … the woman … "

"What are ya talkin' about?" Daryl mused in confusion and tried not to look at her querying eyes.

"Daryl, you're as red as a tomato, and you're wearing the same expression as the last time I asked if a woman was the reason you're so … confused," she spat, trying to restrain her glee. What she wouldn't give to see him happy.

"Pffft … ain't confused… she's a damn client … she asked me … she's payin' me … ain't like that," he said as convincingly as he could, already feeling his ears burning.

"Daryl … it's always like that when it's _not_ like that …" Deanna whispered warmly, stroking his hand where it rested on the table.

Daryl immediately pulled his hand away, afraid to fall apart at Deanna's actions. "Ain't like that … told ya," he whispered in shame, already knowing he couldn't fool her with his words.

"Does it work … with her?" she smiled.

"Damn … ain't talkin' bout this shit with ya," he made clear.

"It's alright," she assured him. "I'm not mad at you. I'm happy for you. Even though I lost Reg, I'm still happy for people who can enjoy what he and I shared. And you can spend time with her, sleep with her, and you get paid for it," she grinned.

"Yer crazy … dunno what yer thinkin'," he barked, yet he knew he hadn't fooled her. Deanna knew a woman confused and flustered him. "Don't want her damn money … and we don't … damnit, why am I even talking about this with ya?" he whispered quietly as he ran his hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart.

Deanna's eyes lit with an inner fire. He didn't want this woman's money? Well, that was telling. It made her wonder if he'd broken the golden rule of this business he was in and begun to lose his heart. No wonder he couldn't _perform_ with anyone else. Not that she could say anything about it. He'd be out the door like a shot.

"Don't what … have sex? You're not having sex with her?" she asked.

Daryl gaped at her, realizing what he'd said. He wished the floor would open and swallow him whole. "She … she has special needs," he said lamely.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she pressed.

"NO!" he growled, flopping down on his chair and burying his flaming face in his hands. How had he lost control of the conversation?

"It might help, Daryl. Maybe sometimes we need someone to talk about things when our inner voice is unable to give good advice anymore. I'm here … you can talk to me. Maybe it would help to talk," she offered. "And besides, I know a lot about this … _shit_ ," she added with a knowing grin.

"If ya wanna help me, gimme the damn address for the damn shop," Daryl breathed out. _Why the hell do they all want to talk?_

Daryl would ring the doorbell soon, he'd always been on time and Carol suddenly became nervous. It seemed like every meeting had been a surprise until now - unpredictable.

Relief flooded her being as she opened the door to see his shy smile. Cautiously, he stepped over the threshold and stopped mere inches before her, not saying a word. But neither did she. Carol could feel the return of his warmth he'd taken away with him when he'd left last week as their gazes collided.

Daryl could feel himself getting lost in her azure orbs as they faced one another, and he couldn't be sure who had made the first move as he found himself enveloped in her warm embrace. It shut out every rational thought in his mind, giving way for the sensations she evoked within him. Everything fell away, and all he could feel was her, the soft press of her body against his and the calming sound of her breath against his jaw.


	17. Chapter 17 - Are You Okay?

***Thank you for the unexpected feedback! Sometimes I thought that nobody is reading and maybe that's why I wasn't fast with updates here, sorry!**

 **Reviews are welcome and I'm also open to constructive criticism, any feedback is great!**

 **Thank you for reading!***

Losing her sense of time, Carol melted into his body, soaking up everything which was just him. The little sounds he made against her skin, his scent and warmth, seemed to make her whole being vibrate with joy. She hadn't realized before just how much she had missed him, missed this. Nearly lost in their breathtaking symbiosis, her mind focused once more and she wondered how they'd come to be in their current position. Had he wanted to make her feel at ease? Was his intention to assure her his past behavior wouldn't be revisited? Or did he simply want her to feel safe … safe enough to pick up where they'd left off before all the ugliness of their former meeting.

Daryl's face burrowed against the crook of her neck, his hands mapping the smooth contours of her back hidden beneath her shirt, his lips brushing feather light kisses to her skin. Carol delved her fingers into the silk of his hair, the strands slipping through it over and over again, using her gentle grip to pull him closer. A small breath rushed past her lips, her head falling back to allow better access, and he immediately took it as a signal, an invitation, to bathe her fevered flesh with lips, teeth and tongue as he explored every available inch of skin not hidden by her clothes.

Strong but gentle hands settled over her hips, dragging her closer, and she gasped, surprised by the feel of his obvious arousal against her lower belly. She was unsure if he was normally so responsive, or if it was _her_ which had made him react so swiftly.

Carol let her head roll forward in a fluent move, her hands falling to rest upon his shoulders, and it was as if she'd spoken his name in her sweet voice in a gentle bid to pause. Slowly, he halted the journey of his lips and found her gaze.

"Hey, you," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Hey," he breathed; his voice raspy with disuse as he realized it was the first thing he'd said since he'd arrived.

Carol studied his expression, and let her lips form an inviting smile, her delicate hands cradling his face, her fingers gliding over his soft whiskers.

"You're fast today," she whispered warmly and slightly out of breath.

Daryl wasn't sure if she was referring to how he'd practically attacked her when she'd opened the door, the sudden closeness without a word spoken between them, or his traitorous arousal pressing almost painfully against the stiff material of his jeans. The more primal part of his mind hoped so badly she would grant him release with her gentle hands, but he had to remind himself of the reason he was there. He pushed the thoughts away and shoved his baser needs into a corner. This was about her, not him! He desperately needed to bring his body back under control. He couldn't allow his cock to take the lead and skew his focus … _her_.

"Um … too fast? Damn … yer jus' so … um … sorry," he stammered, feeling beads of sweat build up on his heated skin.

"No, I … I missed … I missed … this." _Him_. She bit her bottom lip at the word which had almost betrayed her.

Daryl peered at her through his bangs, and she wasn't sure if the blush tinging his face was due to shame or arousal. She couldn't help but notice his eyes fixed firmly on her mouth again. It wasn't the first time she'd observed his desire to kiss her. She would allow it, in fact, she longed for it, and every time they met, her desire for his lips against hers grew stronger. But she didn't want to make the first move, to initiate that first contact of their lips. It had been his rule from the very beginning, and she wouldn't be the one to break it. Nevertheless, she waited for the day he would surrender to his desires, the day he would abandon his fears and give in to his need. And though she waited for it to happen, she feared what it would mean for him _and_ for her.

There was no more time to analyze his every action, his every minute expression, as she suddenly found herself pressed between the wall and his hard body. She was trapped, though she felt the opposite. In no way did she _feel_ trapped. His hips ground into hers, and those large eager hands traveled hungrily over her body, his lips trailing a hot path over her collarbone and dipping lower to nuzzle the valley between her breasts. Some months ago, she would have shown a person who would've gotten too close just what she'd learned in the self-defense training class she'd completed successfully.

But Carol had no intention of pushing him away, not when he alone could make her feel so desired and wanted. She was sure he would never hurt her or do anything she wouldn't want. Even during his previous outburst, he'd never lifted a hand to harm her. With Daryl, she felt safe.

His skilled fingers made quick work of the buttons on her blouse, taking care not to tear it. It was as if he was unwrapping a precious gift as her hands traced his form. The heat building up in her core scorched her, causing all logical thought to abandon her, leaving her to rely purely on instinct.

Daryl knew he was moving too fast, his hands a bit too rough, but her fervent response let him know she was pleased with him. Finally freeing her of her blouse, he could have wept, a frustrated groan tearing from his throat as he encountered the bustier. His hand curled into a fist against her hip, fighting against the urge to tear it from her body and be free to explore her incredible curves.

He felt her delicate hands all over him, soaking up every detail of his body. Before he could revel in the sensations she wrought in one area, she'd already moved on to another. The pure sensuality she exuded was slowly driving him mad, pushing his control to the limit. She reached for his ass, squeezing and pulling him closer when he suddenly heard a rustling sound. He knew what she'd found, and hoped it wouldn't upset her.

Daryl froze, praying he hadn't completely ruined things as Carol reached for the little item in his back pocket and held it in her trembling hand. He sought her gaze, trying to read her, but couldn't determine what was going on in her mind. All he could do was watch her as her eyes wandered between him and the condom clutched between her fingers.

"Uhm … jus' in case, ya know? We don't have t' do anythin'," he assured quietly.

Carol didn't speak … she couldn't … too overwhelmed for mere words. Screwing up her courage, the condom still in her hand, she linked her fingers with his and led him down the hall to her bedroom.

Now it was the bedroom door she felt against her back, the barrier cool in contrast with the heat of Daryl pressed to her front. Labored breaths and the sound of falling clothes hitting the floor charged the atmosphere and brought them both out of time and space. It was hasty and passionate and nothing she'd ever experienced before. Carol wanted him, every part of him … everywhere. Her blood zinged fiercely through her veins, and the sweet ache in her lower belly was a sign she was ready … finally ready.

When the last of their garments had fallen away, leaving them only in their underwear, Daryl took a deep calming breath, reining himself in as he let his hands flow along her arms in a gentler move, realizing what would happen next, and the waves of anticipation sent a quiver along his spine, awed that it would happen now. A small giggle escaped her lips as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He set her down gently on the edge of the mattress, taking the condom from her hand and setting it on the nightstand.

"We should slow down … no hurry, a'right?" he whispered softly as he urged her to lie back. He dropped to his knees, parting her legs cautiously to see the place at the apex of her thighs.

Carol gave him an almost imperceptible nod and eyed him curiously, bracing on her elbows as he kissed her thighs, his palms worshipping every inch of her body he could reach as he whispered against her creamy skin.

"Wanna make ya feel good … make sure yer enjoyin' this," he mumbled among the kisses, reveling in her small gasp as his breath fanned hotly over the scrap of lace covering her core.

Daryl inhaled deeply, catching her distinctive scent enhanced by her arousal. It made his cock throb with every breath he took. He'd been so grateful to have shucked his jeans earlier, but his boxers were still too tight against his sensitive flesh. He could barely stand it any longer. His thumbs rolled under the straps of her thong and pulled the soaking material over her hips, discarding it somewhere over his shoulder, leaving his fingertips free to wander through her soft curls.

She watched him warily as Daryl gently pulled her legs over his shoulders, bringing her closer to him. When Carol felt his mouth on her warm wet center, she fell back against the bed, a quiet moan filled with need meeting his ears. Her taste was intoxicating, and he remembered the last time he'd used his mouth on her. She hadn't been _this_ wet then. Daryl closed his eyes as his body throbbed, drinking her in as his tongue probed her opening again and again before journeying north to circle her clit, every motion drawing more moisture from her, heightening his pleasure as he pushed her towards her peak.

Her body trembled as she felt his hand glide over the material on her belly, reaching out for her touch, and she took it without thinking, the familiar but sudden connection sending sweet shocks flowing through every cell. She squeezed his hand, assuring him she was alright, her fingers sliding sinuously over his palm. He knew just how to push her buttons, their many meetings having given them time to build the trust she needed to give in to his tender ministrations. Her back arched as he continued to toy with her bundle of nerves, setting a steady but gentle rhythm he knew would make her lose control.

"Oh god … Daryl," she moaned before she ultimately let her body take the lead and red spots of excitement spread all over her chest.

Her body nearly hovered over the bed as every muscle clenched, reveling in the sweet torture of his mouth and the pleasure it wrought. She clutched his hand in her vise-like grip as she tumbled over the edge, her deep gasp and sweet moans the most euphonious melody he'd ever heard.

Daryl pressed another kiss to her inner thigh and almost lost himself as he watched her come down from her high, little aftershocks making her twitch. He still held her hand, and brushed his thumb over her knuckles, the warmth she exuded flowing through him in placid waves. His chest swelled with pride, knowing he'd brought her such pleasure. Carol eventually met his gaze and she smiled contentedly as she reached out to brush the curtain of hair away from his brow to admire his steel blue eyes.

"Now," she whispered, "I … I want you,"

He straightened himself up and reached for the condom on the nightstand. Daryl still kneeled between her legs, and he wasn't sure about this in his current position, but the bed had just the right height and his entire body felt gelatinous. Weak with desire, he didn't know if he could trust his arms to support himself over her. He remembered the last time he'd been on top of her, and he didn't want to trigger the same reaction now … not when things were going so well, not at any price.

Daryl was hard as a rock, knowing it was finally going to happen … _now!_ He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he tore open the wrapper and tried to bring the condom into position with his shaking hands.

He'd never deflowered a woman, but he was sure it must feel something like this. He almost felt like a damn virgin himself right then … tensed, nervous and without a clue as to how to proceed. When the tremors increased - steadily getting worse as he got lost in his head - he tried to focus and calm himself down.

 _Focus - you've done this a hundred times; you know how this works! Fuck her like you fucked all the others and then get over it, over her! Give her what she needs and give it to her good, you pussy!_

That's what Merle would've said, and sometimes Daryl envied him for his rationality. He could've used a bit just then. He prayed the words like a silent mantra, hoping it would help him.

His countenance changed, and Carol noticed the warm expression he'd worn was gone. She sought to explain away the change, musing that he must've been very focused as she tried to catch his gaze in vain. She hadn't expected their first time together to be like this, but she still wanted him. She hoped he would relax at some point and so would she.

"Daryl?" she whispered.

"Hmmh," he mumbled without looking at her.

"Look at me ... are you okay?" she asked uncertainly and finally their eyes met.

"Yeah … fine … yer ready?" he asked dryly.

Carol bit her bottom lip as she nodded slightly.

One hand caressed her hip, the other moving to his cock to position himself at her entrance. He groaned as he looked down and saw his tip between her silky wet folds. He could feel her heat, smell her arousal, and it sent another surge of lust coursing towards his cock and he was there on the precipice, ready to cum. It was just too much. _Hold yer damn shit together, Dixon!_

The moment Carol felt him, she winced, her breath becoming heavy, labored. She looked anything but relaxed, but she might have been nervous too, he guessed.

Daryl tried to be as gentle as possible as he moved his trembling body, ready to push into her. Yet, the resistance he was met with confused him. He couldn't penetrate her, almost as if she was closed off to him and he wouldn't try it any longer. Afraid to make things worse or hurt her, he eventually released her, taking a step back as he met her gaze. She looked back at him in desperation, a hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"What … I can't … why?" he asked in confusion, his brows knitted.

Carol slowly moved to the middle of the bed, her body radiating tension as she covered herself with the sheets, her face flaming with shame. Her watery eyes pleaded with him to follow her, needing the comfort of his body cradling hers. He removed the condom and put his boxers on, moving to lie down next to her, his brows raised in askance.

"Have I done somethin' wrong? What does it mean?" he asked.

"You've done nothing wrong," she whispered. "This isn't the first time this has happened. I'm so sorry, Daryl," she admitted dejectedly.

"Oh … naw, don't be sorry … uhm … have ya been t' a … a doctor 'cause of this?" he asked, cautiously, caressing her arm gently. The pressure Daryl had felt previously fell away, and he seemed to reestablish their former connection. His nerves gave way to concern, and he found himself worried about her.

"I've been to no less than four doctors. It's mental, rather than physical. They all said it happens when I'm not … not ready," she stammered brokenly. "I-I thought I was."

Daryl said nothing as he inched closer and opened his arms to offer her comfort, his gaze filled with affection for her. Slowly, she leaned into him and rested her head on his chest, tears dampening the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

"I may never be … ready," she mumbled, her lower lip quivering, her voice trembling.

His heart broke into a thousand pieces for her as he held her tightly and pressed a kiss to her smooth silver curls. The mantra he'd prayed before made him feel guilty. Why had he thought about her that way? How could he even dare? This precious woman deserved so much more, and his mind had produced those words. She must have felt the distance he'd put between them, somehow known it. He couldn't fool her, and didn't know why he'd tried. When a silent tear ran over his cheek, he was glad she couldn't see him right then … neither the inside nor the outside.


	18. Chapter 18 - Close(d)

**Warnings for domestic abuse and rape (non-graphic) in the second part!**

Carol's body had relaxed and Daryl's tears had almost dried. He wiped the revealing trace of wetness away secretly in a rough move and held her tightly, enjoying her warm smooth breaths against his skin, calming him.

He let his fingers travel gently through her soft hair and she stirred, searching his eyes to find an answer until she finally opened her mouth.

"You're disappointed?" she asked - half a question, half a statement as she captured the blue of his eyes with hers.

He shook his head slightly, not knowing what to say as he bit his bottom lip nervously. "Naw ... are _ya_?" he asked eventually.

She let her fingertips glide over his upper arm as she smiled sadly. "I … I thought it wouldn't happen with you … and I thought that enough time had passed by since … but maybe I was too tense. I really wanted it, I still do," she whispered.

"Ain't disappointed, it's a'right … I was also nervous, ya know?" he admitted, feeling his cheeks heating up as he spoke the truth.

Carol was astonished by his honest words. She sensed that he'd been nervous, just like her, but she hadn't expected him to be open enough to tell her - she was glad about his confession and that his uneasy expression was replaced with an easing of tension in his facial features. These were the eyes she trusted, from the man which embrace warmed her and made her feel safe.

"I felt it … but … but why were you nervous? It's nothing special for you," she asked shyly as she remembered that sex was a routine in his job.

Naw, it is … uhm yer are … it's different with ya … don't wanna do anythin' wrong" he mumbled as he pressed his forehead slightly against hers, so he wasn't forced to hold eye contact..

He felt a whit of a nod from her as he held her face in his hands, afraid to lose the contact, but also scared to the bones that he might fall apart by the closeness.

Daryl clung to her, his rough hands held her face softly as the tip of his nose brushed hers and a different kind of heat was rising again.

Carol opened her eyes slowly, eager to read him, but his eyes were closed. She let her thumb wander over his cheeks along to the unexpected softness of his mouth as she brushed slightly over the edge of his bottom lip. The closeness wasn't enough; she wanted more - _needed_ more. Maybe she should give up hope, that their lips would meet someday; she should stop to imagine how it might feel.

Carol saw his eyes opening slowly, his expression fathomless as his lips were slightly parted and she waited. She felt his body sending out a dash of a tremble against her, which made a shiver rush right through her from head to toe.

As he stirred she also parted her lips in expectation, but eventually felt a featherlight kiss finding its destination next to her mouth and only there - it had never been such a close call.

A sigh escaped her mouth, but there was almost no time for her to grieve about the missed moment when she felt him moving against her. Feeling his hands begin to travel a gentle journey along her skin, made her throw away everything which had been heavy on her soul from the moment before.

Lost in her whole being, but still too afraid to touch her lips with hers Daryl began spread gently touches all over her, feeling goosebumps appear under his fingertips. The need to crawl as close to her body as he could had been more urgent than the fear to cross a line, but he felt no rejection.

Carol found his gaze again and he froze - had he read her wrong?

Slightly out of breath she finally opened her mouth as she let her hand glide gently over his chest. "Just … just touch me … and let me touch you … please,"

Daryl immediately knew what she wanted and needed no second invitation to keep going where he stopped and let his hands travel over her waist along her hips until he reached for her thighs, bracing on one arm as he pushed her slightly onto her back.

He was laying half beyond and half over her as she held him close, her chest moving rhythmically caused by his touches and the open-mouth kisses he spread along the swell of her breasts, eager to explore more from her. Pulling him closer, one of his legs made its way between her thighs and she pressed her bare core against him - he gasped between the smooth valley of her breasts at the sudden wetness he felt.

Almost desperately he drank every inch of her softness in. He wanted to taste her sensitive peaks under his tongue and it became more and more difficult for him not to cross the line, when all what he wanted was to tear the fabric apart.

Without thinking she grabbed the thick material from the bustier and pushed it aside, uncovering one of her breasts to him, praying that he would like what he saw, but there was no doubt about it when he began to worship every inch of the soft sensation with his lips.

He licked the rose peak and took it into his mouth as he moaned against her soft flesh. Carol cried out at the sudden pleasure and drew a breath through her teeth with a hiss. She hadn't known that these parts of her body were this interconnected until she felt a rush of wetness entering her core. She automatically spread her legs to give him a sign where she needed him, already feeling his pulsating hardness on her hip.

As her fingers grabbed his waistband to free his cock, Daryl immediately became conscious about her intentions. He took his boxers off quickly to restore the connection of their hungry bodies - he was longing for her touch.

While he massaged her velvet folds, wetting every inch of her core with her essence he noticed, that the more attention he gave to the hard peak between his lips, the more wet she became. When she took his hard cock into her hand he was sure - if he had to die, he wanted to die like this.

He was in fully hardness and already dripping as she began to stroke him. Earning a soft hiss from him caused by her and she knew, he wasn't far away. Her Body lost control about her actions as she felt this stabbing ache in her lower belly - which became familiar since she knew him, and her grip on his cock strengthened.

Two bodies were moving against another … with each other … into each other, accompanied by little gasps and moans as the air became thick enough to cut it.

Carol was close, and so was he - he knew he couldn't take the heat in his cock any longer. The way she used her delicate hand on him was more intense than he remembered. Everytime he felt her thumb gliding over his tip he was afraid to lose it - it set every cell in his body on fire. Daryl knew it wasn't necessary, but he wanted to get her there before he arrived. He increased the pace and he also intensified the pressure of his fingertips as he played with her sensitive nub in a steady rhythm.

It caught them both by surprise as they collapsed synchronous clinging on one another until their damp bodies cooled off slowly between labored breaths.

When their gazes eventually met every word would have been useless and inappropriate. They exchanged eased and exhausted smiles and it was all what it needed.

Before she met Daryl, intimate touches had never been anything Carol had enjoyed. He took her to places where she'd never been before and already taught her that the hands of a man could bring pleasure instead of pain and that a large part of her life had been wasted for that matter. Carol also had learned, that she was able to feel desire for a man instead of fear - a brand new experience for her.

Sex with Ed had been boring and dreary at its best, and painfully against her will at its worst. The more Carol had been under his thumb; the less her soul had accepted his rough advances. But she'd been available for him and had let it happen, hopefully it would be over fast. Sometimes she'd separated her soul from her body to escape the sorrow, and sometimes she'd tried to pretend that she'd enjoyed it to please him - expecting it would had solved his temper, but nothing had ever been right.

Ed had noticed her pain sometimes and had told her that he'd been just _too much man_ for her, but nevertheless he'd been glad that she'd born their daughter with the aid of a caesarian cut. _It's bad enough that the rest of your body is worn … don't need a worn-out cunt!_ he told her. That his wife and their daughter almost had died in the process hadn't been important for him - he hadn't wasted a single thought on it.

The c-section scar was the only scar Carol had never been ashamed of, it was a remembrance from the most wonderful day of her life. She and Sophia had been in a life-threatening danger, but they had won the fight. Holding her little girl in her arms after hours of pain and sorrow had been worth it and a priceless experience.

The sex had become rougher and more painful with the years. Even if he had problems to perform, he'd tried it again and again, blaming her that her disgusting body had been the reason. Six months after Sophia was born Carol had been as slender as before, but she couldn't deny that the pregnancy had left its marks. A slight curve on her lower belly and - with Ed's words - her _sagging tits_ had been unsightly, even if Carol had thought that her breasts were just a little bit softer than before.

When his mistreatments had become physical a new door had opened - the unplumbed depths of her husband's soul became visible.

The day he'd took Carol by her curls to hurl her head against the kitchen counter, she'd refused it to have sex with him the night afterwards. She'd cried and had begged him to show consideration for her injuries, but the more she'd tried to defend herself, the more angered he'd became. She hadn't dared to scream and also had stopped her tries of resistance - worried the desperate noises would wake her six-year-old girl.

He'd taken what he'd wanted as he'd forced himself on her without a whit of mercy and she'd seen it in his eyes - a weird look upon his face like a mixture of rage and arousal. Carol had learned later, what the expression on his face had stood for, but at this moment she'd only been confused about it.

 _You want it like that, bitch … you need it this way? I give you what you need!_ he'd told her with an insanely grin.

It had been the last time a man had entered this part of her body - Carol had closed off herself - mentally and physically, unable to control it.

It had made him angry, ragingly because he hadn't been able to control it either. Ed had wielded power over her, about everything she'd done, but this had been the only thing beyond his power - beyond his control.

More than once a fist had landed between her legs until he'd sent her to doctors, making her believe that _she_ had been the problem. He'd treated her like a broken car, which had needed to be fixed to work again - working for his use.

All three doctors had told her the same; she would need patience and time. They also gave her the same advice that her partner should try to please her other ways and a sudden sense of nausea had tight her throat at these words as she'd smirked bitterly to herself. When one doctor had asked her if she'd suffered violence or rape, she just had shaken her head quickly. Dr. Harlan Carson had been more empathetic than his older brother, he'd shared the doctor's office with, but Carol just couldn't talk. She'd been ashamed about what Ed did to her and felt pathetic she'd tolerated his abuses and her incapacity to leave him.

After the latest appointment Ed had asked again what her problem had been and she'd told him with a shaking voice, almost cracking at her words - she'd known which reaction she'd caused.

Sophia had a sleepover at the Samuel's and Ed had felt free to do whatever he'd wanted to his wife. The house for himself and the alcohol in his system had let him lose it completely. He'd tried to break the barrier she'd built up again in vain, but quickly found other parts of her body he could utilize to find release.

Carol had been trembling after this and quiet, so quiet that not a single sound had left her mouth when he'd scratched an arrow symbol in the soft skin of her lower back with a razor blade, pointing to his favorite area where he'd liked to hurt her as of this day. He also marked the part of her which had been inoperable and scratched five letters in two lines into the tender skin of her mound - _no use_.

When Carol had found freedom after Ed died she also had a say about the way she shaved herself, so she was able to hide the revealing words, but they were still there and told the truth.

Even her new gynecologist Dr. Cloyd had difficulties to examine Carol completely at the beginning, but the patient and sensitive woman had managed it after a long time, that Carol had been able to relax for a complete examination. It hadn't worked every time they had an appointment, but it had been a huge step.


	19. Chapter 19 - Little Talks

"Tobin will be at the wedding … with Paula," Michonne mumbled hesitantly as she looked at her friend, a worried crease forming between her dark brows. Her lips pressed into a narrow line of displeasure, waiting for a reaction. "Rick told me yesterday, and I thought it might be better … if you heard it from me."

A bottle of wine and a ton of Chinese food spread across the coffee table, a plate balanced on each of their laps. That was how the two friends had decided to spend a quiet Monday evening at the house Michonne shared with Rick. The officer was on duty, so they'd had time to exchange the latest gossip until Michonne's expression had become serious and the topic had ventured to Carol's ex … and his plus one for the wedding.

A bittersweet grin spread across Carol's lips as she picked at a piece of kung pao chicken with her chopsticks, countless thoughts racing around in circles through her mind. "So, it seems he's found someone … good for him," she replied coldly as she looked down at her food.

The redhead had been Tobin's secretary for more than a year, and Carol wasn't dumb enough to think they had only been a thing _after_ she'd broken up with him.

"Now it's official," she huffed, her lip curled in disgust. Rick always had this hunch about them, you know that. If this asshole wasn't his boss, he would have already sliced him into little tiny pieces!" Michonne said, her eyes narrowed to slits.

Carol sighed as she looked at her friend with raised brows, unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry," Michonne apologized. "Does it hurt … to hear this? Are you disappointed? I was under the impression you'd never loved him. Was I wrong?" she asked sadly.

"No, I didn't, but … Goddamnit! All this time I was wondering why he'd been so patient with me. The remorse was killing me because I couldn't move forward with him, and now I know why! He'd been sticking it to miss red-is-my-natural-color. Puhleeze! Cheating swine!" she fumed. It wasn't as if she wanted a long term relationship with the man, no. What infuriated her was the fact he'd _lied_ AND _cheated._ UGH!

Carol remembered the visits she'd made to his office, the few times she'd picked him up after work or brought him lunch. She'd had this oppressive feeling something had been off where Paula was concerned. The woman had exuded an air of awkwardness which Carol had found odd. Yet, she hadn't wanted to unduly accuse Tobin. She'd wanted to believe in the inherent good in people - in men - how ridiculous!

"Hey … you have Daryl, and I can't wait to see the expression on Tobin's face when he sees you with that lovely bit of eye candy," Michonne grinned knowingly. "He's going to be the perfect date to rub in Tobin's face." From Carol's description of her paid companion, Michonne couldn't wait to meet him herself. "Oh, by the way … how was your last appointment? Have you had sex with him yet?" she asked, a mischievous gleam sparkling in her dark eyes.

"Uhm … no, not yet … but it's wonderful being with him," Carol murmured, a dreamy little smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she remembered his closeness. The last appointment hadn't run entirely to plan, but the intimacy they'd shared in the quiet moments had more than made up for it. "I know … I'm paying him for his patience, but he's amazing. I … I trust him." She was quiet for a long moment, though she could feel her friend's scrutinizing gaze upon her. "Sometimes it feels as if he really wants me, y'know? When I first started this, I really wasn't interested in anything other than fighting my way past my demons. I just wanted to _feel_ something. And now I can feel his own desire … for me, and it … it feels _good_ ," she added, blushing as she tried to put her feelings to voice.

One thing she'd learned from her disastrous marriage was fear of having sex, afraid her partner would lose control and force himself on her without her consent - just as Ed had done - but she'd never been afraid with Daryl. She felt wanted without feeling pressured, even if the desire she felt from him wasn't real. He'd been nothing but patient and understand, going out of his way to bring her pleasure, demanding nothing in return aside from his fee. He made her feel good, and the paid patience felt more honest to her than Tobin's hypocrisy.

"That's good … you deserve it! Gawd, I can't wait to meet him at the wedding. I bet he's -" Michonne gushed with excitement only to be interrupted.

"Crap! The wedding has been planned with an exact number of guests, and now we're just adding more. I haven't even sent in my RSVP so she'll know about Daryl! I have to talk to Olivia," she groaned in horror.

"Relax," Michonne smiled, resting a calming hand on Carol's shoulder as she spoke. "Darling, everything is going to be fine. I've already talked to Olivia and there won't be a problem. I saw her at lunch yesterday and … ah … might've mentioned the intriguing man who will be accompanying you." She waved a dismissive hand. "Besides, Andrea and her date won't be able to make it either. She'll be in New York that week since the trial has been moved up. It's sad she won't be there, though."

Carol breathed a relieved sigh, though she _was_ disappointed Andrea wouldn't be at the wedding. "Yeah … it's a pity she won't be there."

"Did you get a suit?" Deanna asked full of expectation.

"Naw, ain't had time for that shit, yet," Daryl admitted.

The woman frowned, her brows knitting over her expressive eyes. "Daryl, it's already Tuesday. You need to go to the shop as soon as possible. What if the one you choose needs to be tailored? If you wait too long, there's a chance it won't be ready for Saturday."

"Yeah, crap … I know … I'll buy the damn thing tomorrow … I promise," he replied, lowering his head in shame. The last thing he wanted to do was go to a wedding, but he couldn't bear it if he disappointed Carol.

"Oh, boy! You're a mess," she mused, grinning, "since this woman has come into your life. She's definitely got you under her spell."

"I dunno," he shrugged. "I jus' don't know." He sucked in a sharp breath and shook his head, but he couldn't deny he'd been in an acute state of confusion since the moment he'd met Carol.

"Do I sense in you the need to confess your sins, Dixon?" she asked cautiously, quietly, as she studied him.

Daryl snorted, leaning forward almost to the edge of the sofa, his gaze falling to his lap. He knew Deanna wouldn't let it rest until he'd talked it out with her about Carol … and his _feelings._ He hadn't wanted to talk about this with _anyone_ , but he was desperate for answers. Brooding about it by himself hadn't helped so far, quite the contrary. His latest appointment with Carol had almost ended in disaster because of his own _advice_ , or rather the way he'd thought he should handle things. There was no one else he could ask. He weighed his choices and sneaked a glance at Deanna. If he were being honest with himself, he'd have to admit she was as close to being a friend as he had lately. It also helped that she was a woman with a woman's insight, and he wouldn't have to worry about her gossiping about him. She was a recluse, for fuck's sake!

"How did ya know?" he asked shyly.

"What do you mean? How did I notice you have feelings for her?" Deanna asked warmly as she tried to find his gaze.

Daryl eventually dared a peek at her, wondering if he should spill his guts or shut the hell up. Deanna was a smart woman; she sensed something was off, and he trusted her - at least a little - to give him some sage advice. She knew a lot about this stuff, he was sure.

Running a hand through his hair nervously didn't help him find the right words, however. "Um … naw … crap!" he stammered. "I mean … how did ya know … y'know … damnit! How'd ya know yer husband was ... when ya met him?"

"How did I know he was the one?" she asked quietly, her eyes sparkling.

Daryl chewed at his thumbnail as he nodded in silence, waiting for the answer he so desperately needed.

Deanna sucked in a deep breath and slowly blew it out through her nose, pain clenching at her chest. The memory of her husband still hurt, and she feared she'd never completely recover from his loss, but the love they'd shared had been the greatest gift, one she was still very much thankful for.

A bittersweet smile, filled with fond remembrance, curled her lips. "You just know, sometimes from the very beginning. The first time your eyes meet and you feel as if your heart has taken flight, the first moment your hand brushes hers and a little jolt of electricity shoots up your arm … a connection on an almost spiritual level. Or it could be something which develops over time. Perhaps something simple, a fleeting glance which becomes more until the air is sucked from your lungs and you realize … just how much you love her, how you can't imagine your life without her in it."

Daryl gaped at her. "Is … is that how it was with yer husband?"

"Oh, yes," she breathed, ignoring the sting of unshed tears behind her eyes. "That was exactly how it was with Reg. He was the first thought on my mind when I opened my eyes in the morning, and the last before I would fall asleep at night … he still is. A love like that is to be cherished. Is that how you feel about your woman? You go out of your way to make her feel special, and in turn she makes you feel special, too?"

His melancholic voice was soft and low when he finally spoke. "She doesn't even leave me alone when I'm sleepin' … hell … she's everywhere! Always in my head, and yeah … yeah she's special … never met someone like her before," he sighed hopelessly.

A sad smile graced her lips, never having seen him like this, as if his feelings were so powerful, so overwhelming, he could no longer contain them. The words spilled from his mouth in a relentless tide, and it touched her heart. The tough guy she thought she knew so well, revealing his feelings to a friend. "What you're feeling is wonderful and precious, Daryl. Perhaps she's feeling the same way and is afraid to admit it. Have you asked her?"

"NO!" he growled, his panicked gaze swinging towards her. "She doesn't want someone like me … she deserves better! And she ain't gonna know it … NEVER!" he made clear.

"Like you?" she scoffed. "She could do a hell of a lot worse! You are a wonderful man," she said, her voice gentling. "What if she's feeling what you are, and you're afraid to take the chance?"

"Told ya … she deserves better and she'll never get t' know, 'cause that's the deal!"

"Deal? What deal?" Deanna raised her brows in askance.

"This arrangement we have, this deal … it has to be about _her._ If she knew how I felt, about how I take advantage o' her, she'd never wanna see me again! She's been through some bad stuff, an' she wanted t' make sure … that it's only about her. I'm jus' there t' make HER feel good, not ME … damnit!" he spat.

Deanna had never heard him say so much at once, although she was having difficulty piecing everything together. "Only about _her_? Through some bad stuff? What happened to her?" she asked.

Daryl's cheeks burned, knowing he'd already said too much. The urge to unburden himself had been stronger than he'd expected. Should he say more? Would it even make a difference at this point? He leaned forward and rested his forearms against his knees, focusing on his breathing and pushing his anxiety down. Opening up to someone had never been something he'd dared, fearing rejection, disinterest or worse … humiliation. Even, by chance, if someone had shown an interest in his problems, he had no way to articulate the words needed to disclose the situation, never having been a man of many words. If Deanna hadn't given him so sound advice, talking about it still seemed to help.

"Her husband … that fuckin' douchebag … he abused her … an' she … she never really told me, but I know he … he raped her, too!" Daryl hissed as he clenched his fists.

Deanna's lips parted in surprise as dawning realization washed over her features. "Oh, my god, so … she needs you to help her overcome her past experiences with intimacy … to create new, _better_ memories. That's amazing … and courageous. She must be a very strong woman," she whispered reverently.

"Yeah, she is. I'd never hurt her … an' I can't believe someone else would … did," he breathed as he dropped his head into his shaking hands.

"But she _chose_ you, Daryl. She trusts you -" Deanna began.

"Ain't enough!" he cried, raising his head to pierce her with his tortured stare. "She ain't trustin' me enough."

Deanna shook her head as she rested a calming hand on Daryl's trembling shoulder. "She trusts you, chose you, but she needs time … and _you …_ you can show her what you're feeling in your own way. Don't forget … You're not only selling your body, but an illusion as well. A woman who is paying a man, wants to feel loved and cherished, even if she's aware it's not real. In your case, it _is_ real, but she doesn't know it, doesn't have to know if you don't want her to. She will simply think you are a man who loves his job."

He shot her a skeptical look, but held his tongue.

Deanna grinned and gave a shrug of her brows. "Love her, Daryl, and she will think it's a beautiful lie you cared enough to create just for her. Then, when you think she might feel the same … tell her."

"I dunno shit about this stuff," he huffed in exasperation, raking a hand through his shaggy hair.

"No one _knows_ this. There are a million and one books written on the art of love, be it for the body or the heart, but there isn't an instruction manual to guide you through. It is instinct and pure sensation, feelings unique to you and you alone. There are no two loves alike. Just do what you feel is right and enjoy it … enjoy _her_ for as long as you can."

He nodded, feeling a little better, though no less nervous about how things would play out. "Y'know …. I tried t' push her away. I was rude and nasty and downright mean, but she refused t' let me go … said we'd get past it … recognized it for th' fuckin' panic attack it was."

Deanna's face lit up with joy for him. "And that right there is more than telling. Don't give up on her, Daryl. She may have deeper feelings of her own."

He shook his head - he couldn't believe Carol could feel the same, but he would follow Deanna's advice and make her feel loved, loved by him …

Daryl was pleased his body fell into the _average_ category, and there'd been no need to alter the suit he'd chosen. Within the space of an hour, he'd left the shop, breathing a sigh of relief it hadn't been as bad as he'd expected. The two owners - apparently partners in life as well as business - hadn't tried to transform him into a different person, and he'd been grateful for it. The suit was black - in his opinion - but the men had told him it was a charcoal grey with a light shimmer in the fabric. Uhm … whatever … it would serve its purpose.

They'd also suggested a white shirt and simple black tie. The ensemble looked nice, but he wasn't sure if he would wear the tie. He'd purchased it, deciding to ask Carol. It wouldn't be as bad as the shiny patent leather shoes he'd bought, preferring his boots, but remembering the looks of horror on the owner's faces had changed his mind.

Aaron and Eric had advised him well, and he'd trusted them to help him choose the perfect suit. They had an excellent sense for fashion and things Daryl knew nothing about. He'd felt he'd been in good hands, and he'd have to remember to thank Deanna. He'd winced slightly at the price, needing two envelopes to pay for it, which he'd grabbed out of his nightstand before he'd left his apartment. He hadn't thought he would need _two_ to pay, but better safe than sorry.

When he'd opened the drawer to retrieve the envelopes, he'd noticed he'd always avoided those from Carol. Not a single one had left his nightstand.

Carol had just turned off the shower when the doorbell rang. _Shit!_ Hurriedly wrapping a towel around her dripping form, she stepped into her bedroom, her eyes lighting on the clock on her nightstand. Forty-five minutes early. _Crap!_ Leaving a trail of water behind her, she padded down the hall to open the door, checking the peephole to make sure it was Daryl.

"Oh … um, hi … you're early, but come in," she greeted him, a bit embarrassed over her state of undress. She'd never before met with him devoid of her armor, which seemed to just ramp up her nerves even more. Daryl was in his street clothes, including his vest, a garment bag slung over his shoulder containing his suit and shoes. She'd wondered how he was going to manage getting to her place on the bike in formal wear.

"Hey, uh, I thought we should work out some stuff, y'know … talk about how we're gonna do this today," he mumbled as he stepped over the threshold so she could close the door.

Never had he thought a simple blue towel could suit a woman better than the sexiest lingerie. Just two fingers and a sharp tug on the terry cloth would be all it would take and this woman would be as naked as the day she'd been born.

His cock twitched, applauding his lewd thoughts, and the mental image of her breasts, _both_ of them, bared before him, made his mouth water in anticipation. It didn't matter that he'd only seen one; he could easily envision the pair, the well-formed softness the perfect size for his hand, the taut nipple beneath his tongue, her back arching as he drew her into his mouth. _Fuckkk!_ Jerking off in the shower two hours ago hadn't helped much in the way of relieving the desire he felt for her. _Stupid towel!_

Carol shifted uncomfortably, pulling her towel more securely around her. She'd never felt more exposed than she did right then. "Yeah, talk … good idea, but let me dress first … and you might want to change too."

A sly grin etched his lips, his cheeks flushing a lovely shade of pink as he eyed her appreciatively. "I could help ya … y'know … we've got plenty o' time."

A small giggle spilled from her and her blush rivaled his as she stammered, "Oh … that's really kind … and I really appreciate your help, but I think … I think I can do this on my own, Daryl."

He'd known that would be her reaction. Swallowing down his disappointment, he offered her a smile. He longed to lick the water droplets from her creamy skin where they dotted her shoulders and chest, one making a lazy trail to the valley between her breasts. _Unghf!_ His dark gaze followed her down the hallway until she disappeared from view. Only then did he huff out a breath and groan audibly.

Carol wore a smug smirk as she waited for Daryl sometime later in the hallway. She'd always thought women needed more time to dress. What the hell could he be doing in her bathroom for fifteen minutes? She still had to get in there to fix her hair and apply her makeup, and he was hogging the bathroom, ugh! Antsy with impatience, she headed to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of coffee and to grab a Coke from the fridge for Daryl.

When she heard the door finally open, and his soft tread in the hallway, Carol froze, her cup suspended before her lips. He cleared his throat to get her attention, and she turned to find herself mesmerized by the change in him.

Daryl was equally affected by her beauty, his lips parting on a soft gasp. _Lord, she's fuckin' beautiful._ At her raised brows, he quickly pulled himself together. "Yer lookin' … wow, um … ya look good," he mumbled shyly.

"Thank you. You do too … um … look _good_ ," she replied with a sweet smile. She eyed him from top to toe, amazed by his transformation. He still looked like her Daryl, but he was simply magnificent dressed in formal wear. Even his posture had changed, more erect and proud. She was tempted to fan herself with her hand. _What a man!_

"I know you've already seen this dress, but no one else has, and -" she tried to explain.

"Yeah, but I was nervous," he murmured sheepishly. "Wasn't too interested in what ya were wearin' at th' time." His smoky blue gaze raked over her gentle curves. "I like it."

Which wasn't entirely true. Yes, he'd seen her in the dress before and immediately their first meeting at the hotel flitted through his mind. He just hadn't cared at the time. Same woman, same dress, but now he saw her differently. As if someone had wiped the dust from his eyes to help him see clearly. He saw her as the truly special woman she was instead of just another client. She was no longer the broken woman who'd been so afraid. She was vibrancy and hope and … _love_.

Carol interrupted his reverie, pulling him back to reality with her gentle voice. "So, how are we going to do this today?" she asked.

He stepped closer, a lazy smile turning up one corner of his mouth as he reached for her hand, drawing it up slowly to hold it between them, needing the contact to ground him. "That depends on ya. What is it ya want? Want me to be yer boyfriend … yer fiancé … yer husband? Or perhaps … yer lover?" He was willing and ready to be whatever she wanted him to be.

 _Everything … I want you to be everything to me,_ Carol thought, her mind awhirl as she tried to find a way to put her thoughts to voice. Instead, she shivered, wondering which one _he_ would choose if given the choice.


	20. Chapter 20 - The Wedding

**Chapter Notes:**

 **Here we are finally with another (longer) chapter! I just came back from Crete last night and my muse had a hard time on my vacation, but I hope you'll like it!**

Carol leaned against the kitchen counter, a death grip on the coffee cup gripped in her hands as she mused over his question. _What does she want him to be?_

She fumbled for an answer, hoping she wouldn't confuse him. "I-I guess we're … uhm … dating?" She was sure he wasn't expecting such a hesitant reply.

"Dating?" Daryl mumbled with raised brows.

To avoid any slip-ups, sticking to the truth would be best. However, due to the circumstances of their relationship, that was out. A few embellishments wouldn't be so bad, though, Carol thought. She couldn't introduce Daryl as her boyfriend, not after only a few weeks of acquaintance. Certainly not after she'd just broken up with Tobin a mere two months ago. Even if he'd been a bad choice of boyfriend material - the faithless wretch - she didn't want to appear loose or easy, someone who would change partners more often than her underwear. She wasn't like him.

"Yes … we met each other a few weeks ago, and since … you know, dinner, movies … I'm sure you know how this works," she grinned.

"Sure," he responded quietly.

His nerves decided on that moment to throw a fucking party in his gut, and he tamped down the urge to throw up. What Daryl knew about dating would fit on a single post-it and still leave a good amount of space for a grocery list. Gawd! He'd _never_ tried anything like this before, but he couldn't let Carol know. When he'd shared a trailer with Merle once upon a time, and had observed his brother's behavior, he'd always shaken his head in disgust at the awkward and troublesome procedure. Merle had called it 'pussy-warming' whenever he'd gotten dressed in his _best_ clothes and used the _expensive_ aftershave before leaving to meet a woman at a bar. For Daryl, it had been a sign his brother would be bringing a new woman over to the trailer a week or two later - if not earlier - and the sounds had always kept Daryl up all night. That was all he knew about dating … which was _no_ help at all.

He pushed his brother's antics completely from his mind, filing them away as useless, and focused on the advice Deanna had given him. He would show Carol the love and affection he felt for her _in his own way_ , and make her believe it was all for show. He couldn't be wrong, could he?

"Uhm … what will we say about how we hooked up? I mean, if someone asks an' wants t' know that stuff," Daryl asked. "Where do ya work? Maybe it's a place ya meet a lot of people."

Carol's lips turned up into a half-moon grin as she shrugged a brow. "I'm a social worker. I help women leave their abusive relationships. I don't suppose you'd want to be one of the men I might encounter there at times," she answered mischievously.

 _Well … Just … Shit!_ The thought of Carol having a job like that scared him. It would remind her too often of her past. Working with those women and the assholes who hurt them … _how was she able to keep distance between her job and her private life?_ Yet, he respected her for having the strength to do it, to help others who'd found themselves in the same situation as her. She used her experience and knowledge to help, and it just showed him something he'd known all along … that she was a good person with a big heart. It also made him aware of how little he knew about her. They'd never talked about these things, but he wanted to know more … he wanted to know _everything_ about her.

"What did you do … before you … uhm had _this_ job?" she asked as courteously as possible.

"I have a-another job … but I don't earn that much, so I have _this_ job, too," he lied. "I'm a mechanic … workin' at a repair shop," he mumbled insecurely.

Carol's cheeks tinted fifty shades of red as she laughed out loud, leaving his heart to plummet to his fancy shoes. Deep shame about his low education and blue collar job left Daryl feeling like an idiot. He knew he had nothing to offer a woman like her. He should've known better, that he wasn't good enough for her and never would be. This wonderful woman deserved an educated man with a good job and enough money to give her everything she deserved. And on the other hand, he was a little shocked by her reaction. He'd thought she would be able hide her disdain rather than flaunt it in his face. He never would have guessed she'd outright laugh at him so openly. Her reaction disappointed him.

"I know I've never been smart enough for a damn college degree, but … but it's a'right. We could tell 'em I have a better job. Do ya have an idea?" he stammered, the tips of his ears glowing with mortification.

"No! Oh, my god, no!" Carol barked, quickly covering her mouth with her hand as she realized what he must've thought about her reaction. "No, that's not what I meant … not at all … crap, sorry. Really, Daryl, let me try to explain. The bustier, you know … the one you're hating so much … uhm …" She took a deep breath, trying to gather her rambling thoughts. "I bought it with my best friend, and she said the man who would get me out of it would have to be a talented mechanic … and YOU just happen to be one," she explained as she smoothed a calming hand over his shoulder to show she'd meant no harm.

Daryl took a deep calming breath and gave her a half smile as he tried to relax.

"I … it's great, perfect even! We could say you fixed my car and afterwards, you asked me to have dinner with you. Good?" she asked, her azure eyes sparkling with hope.

"Good," Daryl nodded, having calmed down at her spontaneous explanation. She'd sounded genuinely remorseful for accidentally misleading him, and he couldn't detect a lie in her ramblings. For one terror-filled moment, he'd believed he'd been wrong about her, wrong to have put his faith in this woman he adored. It had to be a misunderstanding … at least he'd hoped it was. He took a deep breath, the next moment wondering if he was truly _talented_ enough to eventually get her out of that infernal bustier to explore _all_ of her skin. He couldn't wait to find out.

Nearly lost in thoughts, he winced as her sweet voice pulled him back to earth. "She'll be there too … my best friend, Michonne. She's the only one who knows who you … _what_ we are to one another," she whispered conspiratorially. "And m-my ex will be there with his new girlfriend, just so you know," Carol added. She wanted him to know what to expect tonight. She'd want to know if she were in his shoes.

"That's why ya wanna go with me … t' … t' make him jealous?" Daryl asked. The jealousy hit _him_ when he heard her words. That she'd had a boyfriend, who he would meet there, took him by surprise. It made him uncomfortable to think she would use him to make another man jealous. He sincerely hoped the door was closed for her ex … and locked with three deadbolts and a slew of padlocks! The image of her with someone else caused an unfamiliar ache to churn in his stomach - a feeling he'd never experienced before he'd met her.

Carol quickly shook her head at the groundless question. "Daryl, this man isn't even worth a conversation," she assured him. "I'm not going with you in the hopes of making him jealous. I want to go with you because I enjoy your company. I want to share the evening with you and have a good time with my friends," she made clear.

"He hurt ya?" he asked, his lips narrowing into a thin line of disgust. Daryl didn't know how he'd react to a man who'd hurt her if presented with the opportunity to face him.

"No, he just wasn't the right man for me," she said.

"'Cause ya couldn't … with him? Uhm … 'cause _he_ couldn't wait?" he asked carefully.

"I broke it off with him," she admitted. "I know it's unreasonable for a man to be with a woman … like _me_ … who can't give him what he needs … _sexually_ , so I let him go," she whispered, shame coloring her cheeks as she let her gaze drift to the tips of his shiny black shoes.

Daryl would certainly think a man wouldn't want to be with her. She was no prize, and she was useless when it came to a man's needs. A man like Daryl wouldn't waste a single second with her under different circumstances. No man in their right mind would want to become involved with her mess.

Daryl's fingers ghosted beneath her chin, lifting her gaze back to his. He wouldn't push her, never further than she'd allow. If what they'd shared so far could be as much as she could give of herself, it would be enough … _more_ than enough. He reveled in what they enjoyed together, and suddenly felt ashamed about his earlier thoughts of how to get her out of her clothes. He needed to remind himself to respect her rules. He was lucky to be the man she'd chosen.

"The right one would wait … th' right man wouldn't push ya," he whispered as he looked into her watery azures.

Carol wanted to believe him, and sent up a silent prayer that maybe he could be the one … in another life … under other circumstances.

Carol hurried into the bathroom for a last minute check to her hair and to apply a little makeup. When she came out, Daryl was waiting for her, staring down at the tie in his hands, still undecided as to whether he should wear it or not. After a little persuasion, he agreed it would look better for the semi-formal event. Daryl scrutinized her as she brushed away his fumbling fingers and manipulated the cloth into a neat windsor knot. He watched her in silence, simply enjoying her closeness, sneaking short glances she returned, the air between them becoming heavy with longing. They shared a sly rueful grin, well aware they didn't have time for more at the moment.

They left Carol's apartment as she filled him in on their itinerary. "The ceremony is being held at St. Andrews. Do you know the one I'm talking about?"

"Yeah," he murmured, "The big one downtown."

Carol smiled as they stuck to the sidewalk. "Yes. It shouldn't take more than thirty minutes to get there, barring traffic. And the reception will be held at a hotel … maybe twenty minutes away," she explained.

Instead of the BMW he'd borrowed from Merle for the evening, they took Carol's little red Fiat 500. He'd had a hard time convincing his brother to loan him the car, and Merle was already thinking of ways to have Daryl return the favor, but Carol had absolutely wanted to drive the small cruiser she adored so much. It was a longtime dream she'd finally realized a year ago, she'd told him, a dreamy look in her eyes as she'd gotten into the cute vehicle. And Daryl believed she was right. The car was a perfect fit for this woman, and he didn't know why, but he could feel himself relaxing next to her as he watched her behind the wheel, her ease with driving having a calming effect on him.

Daryl stuck a finger between his collar and neck, tugging as he tried to loosen the tie around his neck, listening to her sweet voice echo around the interior of the car. He wondered why she seemed to be obsessed with travel time, but didn't know if he should question her. Regardless, it gave him a feeling he was missing something important.

Amusement colored her voice as she talked about Eugene and his bride, Olivia, and how every one of her friends had waited impatiently for him to ask her out. They were made for one another, and it hadn't taken them long at all to realize it. Carol giggled as she told Daryl how happy the father of this Eugene guy was that his son had finally found a woman. Daryl enjoyed the little fireworks playing through his body every time her eyes left the street to look at him as she talked about people he didn't know. Maybe she wanted him to feel a part of her crowd for the day. It seemed as if she were happy for the couple, but almost sad at the same time to witness their happiness, as if something were missing in her life. The words hadn't been spoken, but he felt it.

Daryl tensed, the tie feeling like a noose around his neck as she told him where the reception would take place, the hotel where they'd met for the first time - _The Grand Alexandria._

Until then, Carol had avoided telling him the name of the hotel, unsure of how he'd react. They hadn't made good memories in that suite, but it was where they'd met for the first time, the place where two strangers had collided and begun a new journey together. Two strangers who had become closer with every second shared since then. She was glad he hadn't rejected her after their _misunderstanding_ , and she was glad she'd given him - _both of them_ \- a second chance. Perhaps, she'd already felt that little spark of connection between them, a connection which could ultimately become dangerous to her. The man next to her was an escort, one she paid for his time and company. It was necessary to remind herself of that fact quite often. He didn't see her as anything but a client. And as the reality of their situation entered her mind again, another did as well … the money.

"I … I thought about your payment today," she whispered, her cheeks blushing a lovely shade of pink. "I have seven hundred fifty dollars with me. I guess it's enough to stay until the dinner is over. I mean, I'd love for you to stay longer, but I'll understand if you can't, and if you did, I could give you the rest of the money next time we meet," she rambled, the color in her cheeks deepening. "Would that be ok?"

Daryl winced. He'd briefly thought about the uncomfortable issue of his fee. He didn't want to take her money anymore, but he couldn't tell her he'd rather pay _her_ for the privilege of spending an evening with her by his side. The truth would destroy the deal.

Clearing his throat, he mused how to find the right words. "I thought ya would jus' pay what ya always do," he suggested with a shrug.

 _Would he want to leave after three hours … less than three hours since he'd arrived far too early at her place? And how would she explain their early departure to her friends? Would they even have enough time to stay for dinner?_ The thoughts whirled through her mind like a tornado, one more horrifying than the last, and she felt the panic building within her which she couldn't hide from him.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry, Daryl. We should've discussed this earlier. I … I just … I wasn't thinking," she said dejectedly, inwardly berating herself for not planning ahead.

The onset of her panic was clear to him. He could see it in the change of her posture, her delicate hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel and the tight set of her mouth. "Ain't got nowhere t' be after this, y'know? So, it doesn't matter how long we're stayin'. Jus' pay what ya always pay. It ain't a big deal, an' I don't want ya lookin' at th' damn clock all night, a'right?" he said, trying to put her at ease.

Her grip on the wheel eased a bit, but when her gaze left the street, he saw her brows knitting in disbelief. "Oh … yes, alright, but … why? You don't have to do this," she mumbled, her teeth toying anxiously with her lower lip.

 _Damnit!_ Now he was trapped. He could earn more money, but he didn't want to, had never wanted to if he were honest with himself, not after he'd first felt the invisible pull which always seemed to draw him to her. What could he say without appearing selfish about spending time with her?

"Um … I know ya; ya ain't rich. And like I said, I don't have t' be anywhere else after this, so I don't care how long we're stayin'. We'll have a good time, and I'll take ya home afterwards if ya want. I wanna make sure yer enjoyin' this," he rambled, his turn to stumble over his words.

Carol gave him a wordless nod as they arrived at the church. She was still confused, but she accepted his answer.

He knew it was ridiculous, but Daryl had been looking forward to this day. She would be _his_ today. She would belong to him every bit as much as he'd belong to her, even if it was just a charade. For him, it was very much real.

He jumped out of the car, hurrying around to the driver's side and opening the door for her. Her fingers were cool as they slid across his palm, allowing him to help her from the vehicle like a true gentleman. He kept her hand in his as they headed towards the church steps to let the show begin, but he also needed the connection her delicate hand provided, craving her touch to keep him grounded. He was longing for her calming touch, something he would need to manage this strange situation which had been thrust upon him. All those people - _too many_ people - and he didn't know a single one of them. At least he hoped he didn't.

They left the collective gift from Carol and some other friends in the car since it wouldn't be needed until they arrived at the hotel. It was a coffeemaker, though as Daryl eyed the brightly wrapped gift with it's silver and white paper, he thought a few other appliances could have fit in there as well. He inwardly groaned, knowing he'd be the one toting it in to the reception.

Daryl took a deep breath as he led her up the steps and into the church through the open doors, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm. His skin hummed with anxiety, but with Carol at his side, he knew he could make it through the barrage of sights and sounds only the masses could make. And just from the looks of the church outside, he was well aware the building could easily hold three to four hundred guests. He sent up a silent prayer the soon-to-be married couple hadn't really invited that many people.

He arched a brow as an usher made his way over to show them to their seats. It wasn't the fact that they needed to be shown into the sanctuary that had him flummoxed, but more that the poor man was on crutches and sporting what looked like a black eye.

Carol gasped, her eyes going wide. "Bob, oh my god! What happened to you … to your leg? You were fine last week when I saw you at the station."

The man shook his bald head and snorted, a jubilant smile on his wide mouth. "You know how clumsy I can be. I ran into Eugene on the landing and tumbled back down the stairs." He sighed. "But I couldn't let a little accident get in the way of being here to do my duty today, now could I?"

Carol tugged on Daryl's arm to follow, wincing as the man hobbled off in front of them. "You're a good friend, Bob."

As they took their seats near the front, on the end of the pew - Carol had a feeling Olivia had arranged that personally - she settled her skirt around her and blushed as Daryl reclaimed her hand. He still looked nervous, but determined to have a good time. It made her heart flutter just a little, and she couldn't help but return his smile.

Her gaze wandered in the minutes before the ceremony would begin, surreptitiously studying the other guests. Michonne was trying to catch her attention from the pew across the aisle, her mouth gaping slightly as she got a good look at Daryl. Carol simply sent her a little wave and a silent promise to meet up with her afterwards. The groom's parents sat in the front row, beaming proudly. A shushing sound drew her gaze back to her best friend, who was giving her husband the evil eye for whatever transgression he'd committed, and it was then she couldn't miss the narrow-eyed gaze Rick seemed to be sending her way. Not hers, but Daryl's.

Daryl seemed to notice as well, and shot her an inquisitive look. She knew how protective Michonne and Rick were when it came to her. She prayed they wouldn't be too hard on Daryl, however. She was happy with him, with their deal, and she didn't want anything to mess it up … for either of them.

Then it was Carol earning the evil eye as she noticed Tobin watching her from the back row on the groom's side where he sat with Paula, the woman quickly averting her eyes. Daryl immediately read her discomfort, realizing who the guy must be. He inched closer to Carol, brushing his fingers over her knuckles as he caught her gaze and gave her a reassuring smile. He didn't like to see her so put off by the couple scrutinizing her. She didn't owe this Tobin person _anything._

But Carol's thoughts were banished as the side door opened, and Eugene - looking more put together than she'd ever seen him before - entered, his best man Abraham in tow.

Daryl winced as his gaze moved to the men standing near the altar. The ginger; he knew the guy. The friendly man of giant stature with his gruff humor owned a tattoo shop Daryl had visited a few times. Once, he'd had the idea to do something about the scars and demon tattoos on his back - some kind of cover up - but he still hadn't found a proper solution despite the tattoo artist's well-meaning advice. Daryl had no idea how a man like Abraham had become best man to the awkward looking groom. He supposed opposites really did attract.

Eugene and Abraham were taking their places near the altar. The music swelled, and all eyes turned to the back of the church as the doors opened and the bridal procession began.

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **CharlotteAshmore - my beta, my friend, my heroine, my angel - I owe you something … no, everything. You saved my ass in this chapter; I had no idea how different weddings in the states are to german weddings. And you had to endure my bitching the last two weeks … THANK YOU SO MUCH for what you are and everything you do! *bear hug***


	21. Chapter 21 - The Wedding Part II

_**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! :) I appreciate every single one! *hugs***_

A hush fell over the church as the flower girl pranced forward, dropping her delicate petals onto the carpeted runner. The bridesmaids, Rosita, Sasha and Tara looked beautiful in their lavender dresses, though Tara felt uncomfortable in the unusual outfit. Her aversion to wearing a dress was blatantly obvious, for which she earned a quick jab from Sasha's elbow, slightly nudging her towards the aisle. Sasha winked at Olivia as she followed Tara, leaving the bride chuckling softly as she took her father's arm.

Eugene took a deep breath to steady his nerves, the congregation rising to their feet as the bridal march began to play, and Olivia appeared to make her procession down the aisle.

For the first time since she and Daryl had arrived and taken their seats, she was able to let go of her stress and simply enjoy the beautiful scene before her. Of course, she was reminded of her own wedding so long ago, but it was a closed chapter of her life which was in no way similar to the love and joy Eugene and Olivia shared. She was beyond thrilled for the bridal couple, and wanted to celebrate and enjoy the evening with them and their friends, Daryl close to her side. And though their appearance as a couple was only temporary for this one evening, she wanted to cherish every second she had with him. The hand holding and other small gestures towards her might have only been pretense, but for her it really felt as though they belonged together in some way. _He was very good at this._

The newlyweds exited the church first, awaiting their guests there on the front steps to thank them all for coming while accepting their heartfelt congratulations. Daryl stuck close to Carol, his hand never far from the small of her back as he shyly shook hands with her friends. He could count how many weddings he'd attended in his life on a closed fist.

The receiving line finally broke up as the photographer called the bridal party together for pictures and a good number of guests began making their way to their cars. Michonne's head could be seen, bobbing over taller shoulders, her hand waving in the air as she tried to garner Carol's attention before she and Daryl could get to her little Fiat. Carol stopped when she heard her name, turning in time for Michonne to burst through the crowd and seize her in a bear hug which nearly stole her breath.

She didn't waste any time eyeing Daryl from top to toe. "So …" Michonne fairly purred. "This must be Daryl, yes?" she asked curiously.

He missed her comforting touch as Carol greeted her friend, longing to snatch her back to his side. He blushed to the tips of his ears and cleared his throat nervously as he introduced himself - for what felt like the hundredth time that day - and shook hands with Michonne and her husband. He looked the man over warily, having had to contend with Rick's disgruntled scrutiny already in the church. The bearded man had judged him skeptically - and rather coldly - from the first second Daryl had noticed him. He hadn't known what to think about Rick or why the man had given him the stink eye. For the life of him, Daryl couldn't imagine what he'd done wrong.

Carol's friends were an eclectic bunch. A groom who looked as if he was still trapped in the eighties, a moody looking guy with a beard with a judgemental air, and an African-American rasta woman who only needed a sword to make her look like a samurai … not to mention all the other people he'd been introduced to. It was a motley mix of people who couldn't have been more different from the woman he adored, yet they were all her friends. He could only wonder what the night had in store for them.

"The wedding ceremony was so beautiful, don't you think, Daryl?" Carol asked dreamily as they trekked their way from the car to the hotel entrance.

Olivia had made such a lovely bride, looking like a sweet cream cake in all of the layers of tulle and bridal silk she'd worn, and Carol thought she might've been the luckiest bride in existence to have found love with Eugene. She didn't think she'd ever seen a couple more in love with one another.

Daryl struggled under the weight of the gift he carried. He felt like a weak pussy with arms seemingly too short to wrap properly around the huge box. "Hmm, uh, yeah," he wheezed, unable to see his own feet.

"Oh dear, do you need a hand with that?" Carol offered, even if she didn't know how both of them would manage to carry the package together. But the poor man next to her looked as if he would stem the whole weight of the world in his strong arms. After she'd seen him moving her washing machine, she'd thought there would be nothing he couldn't manage.

Daryl felt sweat bead on his brow and run down from his temples as he shook his head. "Naw … I got this, but are ya sure there ain't a whole kitchen in it? I can carry m' coffee maker with two fingers! How did ya even get this in th' car?" he breathed.

"The two shop clerks put it in my car when I picked it up yesterday. Thank god for in-store gift wrapping. It's a coffee maker with a dual-drip filter and built-in grinder," she giggled, a hand rising to cover her mouth. "I really have no idea how heavy it is."

Raising his sweaty brows, Daryl said, "Sounds expensive."

"It's a collective gift from me, Michonne, Rick and Andrea. I couldn't have afforded something like this on my own. Andrea wanted to bring it, but unfortunately she isn't here today; she had an emergency in New York and couldn't reschedule. She's a lawyer," Carol explained.

 _Andrea? Lawyer? Th' fuck?_ Daryl's heart skipped a beat, and the sweat increased when he heard the familiar description of one of his former clients. _Damn! It's got to be a coincidence … it has to be … it couldn't be the same woman. There are so many lawyers in this town, and Andrea isn't an uncommon name._

Daryl brooded as he thought about the possible connection, but no matter what, he was glad he wouldn't have to meet this Andrea to find out.

When they finally managed to find their way from the parking area into the hotel, Daryl was glad no one would recognize him behind the wall of wrapping paper and ribbons which concealed him. In the past, the receptionist and some of the other staff had always greeted him with a nod when he'd often used this place to meet with his clients. He didn't fool himself that he wouldn't eventually be recognized, but he didn't think anyone would say anything. Why would they?

With Carol's help, they were finally able to locate the gift table and relieve Daryl of his burden. After he'd found his breath again, he gave the hall a closer inspection. It was a bit bigger than Daryl had imagined it would be, and wonderfully adorned mainly in white and lavender. He was impressed; someone had spared no expense to provide a lavish wedding and reception for the newlyweds.

A chart at the entrance and little handwritten place cards helped them find their seats quickly. Rick and Michonne would sit at their table, along with Tyreese and Karen. Carol was glad they wouldn't have to share the table with Tobin and Paula, but the place cards had been informative. They would have a great view of Carol's back from the table behind them.

Before Daryl had a chance to take a seat next to Carol, Rick suddenly appeared at his side.

"How about us guys grabbing some drinks for our ladies. What do you think?" he asked, a predatory gleam in his crystalline eyes.

Daryl nodded in wary agreement, tensing as he was caught off guard by the man. He hadn't even thought of drinks.

"Wine, ladies?" he asked, receiving a smile of agreement from the women.

Rick led Daryl through the throng of guests - a few still looking for their seats - to the open bar set up along the back wall. He could only imagine the reception to be as expensive as a middle-class sedan.

The men placed their orders and fell silent for a moment, Daryl not having a clue as to what to say to the man. All he wanted was to collect their drinks and return to Carol's side with all haste, but the other man had different ideas.

"Take a seat," Rick demanded in a serious tone, pointing to the barstool next to his.

"I think we should hurry this along … don't wanna keep Carol waiting, y'know?" Daryl stammered.

Rick sat down, his eyes narrowing to slits as he shook his head. "Take. A. Seat!" he repeated in a cold hiss.

Swallowing hard, Daryl did as he'd been told and sat down. He didn't have a clue what to expect from this guy who'd already tried to kill him with a single look at the church.

"So … you and Carol?" Rick began, his eyes frigid.

"Um, yeah … me an' Carol … we're uh … datin'," Daryl choked out, feeling like a prisoner. All that was missing was a pair of cuffs.

"Dating, huh?" Rick sneered. "Does this mean you don't want a serious relationship with her?"

Quickly shaking his head, Daryl fished for the right words and wondered if he'd ever stop sweating. "What? No! Ain't what I wanted t' say … ugh … we've only known each other for a few weeks, an' we're takin' it slow … that's all," he tried to make clear.

"Do you even know anything about her … about her past?" Rick asked sharply, trying to keep his voice low in case others at the bar thought to eavesdrop.

"I know some things, I guess … not everything," Daryl admitted, feeling his face heat. "I know enough … that life ain't always been kind or easy for her."

"You don't know shit! Well, let me tell you something … that woman, she's a force of nature," Rick practically snarled. "What she's been through … what she's survived … She's stronger than she knows. She lost her daughter … she's dead! And her husband - that monster - almost killed her. And just so you know, I won't let _anyone_ hurt her again!"

The cop's threat hung in the air between them, this new information rocking Daryl to the core of his being. He remembered how he'd yelled at her once, the disgusting things which had flown from his wayward tongue. He'd only presumed about her daughter, but now the ugly truth that she'd died … it made his heart burn with unbearable pain. Her husband - that fucker - had almost killed her, and now he knew what she'd meant by her teasing remark of having nine lives, just like him. He hated her ex with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. This new knowledge burrowed its way into the marrow of his bones, and made the bond he shared with her stronger, even if it scared him to know they had so much in common. They'd both lost those closest to them, people they'd loved and they'd almost died by the hands of someone who should have only provided safety, love and shelter.

Daryl stared hard at Rick, realizing the antipathy he'd felt for the guy had been replaced with heartfelt agreement. Even is the grisly man kind of frightened him with his forthright behavior, he nevertheless liked him for the way he wanted to protect Carol. He was grateful she had friends like this who only had her best interests at heart.

"I would _never_ hurt her … _never_ ," Daryl mumbled, a shudder wracking his wiry frame.

"Good," Rick pronounced with an overdone toothy grin as he patted Daryl on the back. "But if you fuck this up … I'll kill you and make it look like an accident." Rick added.

When the bartender placed the chilled glasses of wine on the counter, Rick stood up and lifted two of them, leaving Daryl to collect the other two. Daryl followed him back towards the table through the milling crowd, still a bit shocked over their conversation.

"So … we're good?" Rick asked, slowing his steps as they neared their table.

"Yeah, I think so," Daryl responded sheepishly.

The four of them sat at the table, sipping their wine as they tried to ignore the awkward silence which had settled between them. Michonne glared suspiciously at her husband, suspecting him of trying something underhanded. She knew him so well, after all. The other couple who would be sharing their table had yet to arrive.

Michonne thought Daryl was a good choice for the evening, and hadn't hesitated to tell Carol while the men had gone to fetch their drinks, but Michonne had confided in her, voicing her suspicions that Rick would try to intimidate Daryl and play the overprotective brother card. And her best friend had been right, Carol thought. Taking note of Daryl's trembling hands as he set the glass before her, Carol was sure the officer hadn't been very friendly or gracious. She second-guessed her decision not to have filled Rick in on the situation.

Carol shifted in her seat, leaning closer to Daryl, and this time it was she who took his hand in hers to give him a sympathetic squeeze. "I'll be back soon. Don't let Rick bother you … he's not so bad, really," she whispered in his ear, gently caressing his shoulder in support before she and Michonne departed for the ladies room.

Carol exited the stall and quickly headed to the sink to wash her hands, catching sight of Paula leaning against the wall of the ladies room. She caught Michonne's gaze in the mirror, her friend's eyes sparkling with mischief. She was ready to get back to Daryl, but she knew a conversation with Tobin's current flame would be unavoidable. Carol had felt the woman's eyes boring a hole in her back both at the church and the short time she'd been at the table in the banquet hall. It pissed her off. Now, time she could be spending with Daryl would have to be sidelined to accommodate _her._

There was something about this little inconspicuous looking secretary, who always appeared reticent and kind. Hidden deeply under the surface of her facade, Carol sensed a reckless and coldly calculating bitch.

Carol sighed, scrubbing diligently at her nails to hide her irritation. "Did you need something, Paula, or were you just planning to stare at me all evening?"

Paula stepped closer, her hazel eyes dull and lifeless as she wrapped an arm about her middle, sucking in a breath as she prepared to speak. "I just wanted to say sorry … because of … you know," she whispered in shame.

Carol arched a brow as her lips formed a half smile of disbelief. "Darling, you don't have to feel sorry for me. You owe me nothing. It wasn't you who cheated on me and broke a promise of fidelity. If you want to feel sorry for anyone, it should be yourself. Do you really think he'll remain faithful to you," she scoffed. "Once a cheater … always a cheater, dear. But I _am_ curious. How long has this been going on between you?"

Michonne snorted as she dried her hands, internally cheering Carol's snark.

Paula shifted uncomfortably as her eyes flitted over to Michonne, but she still hurried to try to explain herself. "Not long after I started working for him, to be honest," Paula admitted, averting her eyes from Carol's piercing gaze. "But it had never been anything serious. He's just a warm body for my bed. I'd say take him back, but I've seen your date, and you look really happy with him," she said, trying to muster a smile to save her dignity.

"Tobin begged me a few weeks ago to come with him to this wedding," Carol said.

"I-I know, he told me," Paula cringed.

Carol's lips curled into a smug smile. "But why would I go with him when I could go with a real man? You are second choice," she sneered.

It wasn't the fact that Tobin had turned to Paula. He'd never been able to hurt her, oh no! Her bitterness stemmed from his lies and betrayal. Actually, she should be thanking the woman for being the little plaything by his side.

"Enjoy him while you can is the only advice I can give you, dear. You deserve one another," Carol said coldly as she moved to the door where Michonne was waiting for her.

"You made the right decision in contrast to me … to dump him," the redhead called after Carol. "I don't even know why I'm still doing this with him, but I _am_ his secretary. My job is to fetch his coffee and make him feel good about himself. I need this job."

"Did you know I would be here?" Carol asked. At Paula's hesitant nod, she sighed. "And yet still you came? Well … I do hope he's paying you well, dear … for your services."

Michonne opened the door and Carol flounced out into the bustle of the hall without a backwards glance. She understood the little game Tobin played with Paula. The woman was selling herself, devoid of even a shred of self-respect. He was using her, and the saddest part was that she was a willing puppet dangling from his strings. Carol was glad Tobin had never been able to touch her heart, and hoped the little affair he and Paula indulged in would force them to learn a lesson and pay the piper for their vile behavior.

Carol's steps were light as she and Michonne made their way back to the table, to their friends and _Daryl_. She wasn't going to let _anyone_ detract from her enjoyment of the evening, her enjoyment of _him._ It was sure to be an unforgettable evening for them _all_ and she already had an idea for the lousy couple. _Revenge is a dish best served cold._


	22. Chapter 22 - The Wedding Part III

**Notes:**

 **So sorry it took me so long for an update on this story, but I was pretty busy with my challenge story 'Lost in Haunting Pictures' and I needed some time to get back into the right mindset for this story. Maybe there is only enough room for one 'Caryl' in my head!**

 **I hope I didn't lose my readers because of the late delay!**

Michonne was giddy with excitement. "I have a nice idea for Paula. Gawd, this evening will be one we'll never forget!" Michonne gushed mischievously as she and Carol made their way from the ladies room back to the table where their men were anxiously awaiting their return. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, honey?" she asked with an evil smirk.

"Possibly," Carol pondered, nibbling at her lip, "but … I don't know. Maybe I should feel sorry for her. It could be that she'd had no other choice … he's her boss, Michonne. I was too hard on her," Carol said, shooting a worried glance at her friend.

Michonne stopped walking and took Carol's hand, eyeing her incredulously. "Yeah, she said she needs this job, but more for her inflated ego than her salary. Last week, Tara told me how Paula bragged to her how she'd stripped her ex-husband down to his boxers in the divorce proceedings. This woman has enough money," she snorted. "Her intention is to become the first lady of the department with the aid of her pussy. She's already conveying instructions to the officers," Michonne explained.

"Oh, my god! Seriously? That woman!" Carol hissed, her eyes widening in surprise. "I guess I underestimated her malice," she added.

Michonne nodded, her lips curling into a knowing grin as she squeezed Carol's hand. "We have to talk to Olivia. I'm sure once we fill her in, she'll be on board with our plan."

What Carol and Michonne had planned for Paula was more prank than punishment. It wasn't as though the woman would be hurt by it, but after the talk Carol had had with her, she still wasn't sure if she'd been too hard on the woman.

Seven years ago, when Carol's new life stretched out before her - empty like a blank piece of paper - she'd strived to become the woman she'd always wanted to be, always meant to be. Carol had been self-confident, once upon a time, before she'd met Ed, a young woman who'd known what she'd wanted, and above all, what she hadn't wanted. When she'd taken charge of her life, it had been a driving need to find the woman she'd buried piece by piece over the years. She'd hoped and prayed she'd still been there somewhere buried under the layers of fear and desperation which had cloaked her.

Never would she allow someone to hurt her this way again. It had taken a great amount of courage to learn to defend herself physically, but she'd prevailed. Yet, despite the physical abuse Ed had put her through; he'd also battered something else out of her. She'd lost her voice and the ability to stand up for herself against him … against anyone. The more invisible she'd become, the more others ignored her as though she had neither rights nor opinions.

For the longest time, she would remain mute when someone jumped the queue at the supermarket checkout. It was harder even to offer a friendly nod or smile to brusque civil servants. She'd lost her voice because of Ed, and it had been the ultimate struggle to find it again, not wanting to offer the world a point of attack, terrified of what might happen.

The self-defense training had been a huge step, but defending herself verbally had been much harder than she'd imagined it to be. She'd found her self-confidence slowly, and even if she'd stumbled back sometimes - her mind screaming against her closed lips - she'd become stronger. It was still a process of learning which never seemed to end. It was a fine line she still had to learn … the line between releasing everything on her mind, and the holding her silence.

It was why Carol still second-guessed herself sometimes and made her wonder if she'd reacted the right way in more than a few situations … like now with Paula.

But nevertheless, she wasn't weak anymore; she wasn't the woman which Ed had tried to build. There were still some weak spots like Sophia - a wound which would never heal - and her difficulties about trusting people and allowing physical closeness, but she wasn't a silent victim anymore. Maybe she was brave for the awareness of her insecurities and the intention of working consistently on her improvement.

Though she still wasn't sure about the words she'd tossed Paula's way, Carol knew she would still have to take a stand against those who sought to hurt those she cared about. Rick seemed to want to penalize Daryl for how other people had treated her in the past, and she couldn't allow him to get away with such behavior. It wasn't about someone who'd treated her badly, but rather someone who meant a great deal to her. It hurt her to see Rick treat Daryl with animosity rather than the hand of friendship he should have extended to him.

Daryl felt rather relieved to see Carol finally coming back to the table after an excessively long time in the ladies room. It seemed as though women spent donkey's years there and he couldn't help but wonder if he had been the topic of discussion between her and Michonne. Talking … what else would women do in the ladies room, a no man's land?

During the intervening time, another couple - more people Daryl didn't know - had found their seats at their table, the dinner hour creeping closer. While the other guests had been reticent but kind, Rick continued eyeing Daryl as if he were a nasty bug the man wanted to squash at the first chance. There was no other option for Daryl but to ignore the man and hold his shit together. For Carol. She wanted a man by her side whose company she could enjoy, not some panicky person drowning in nervousness.

Carol paused briefly to greet the newly arrived couple at their table before taking her seat once again next to Daryl. Her shoulder brushed his slightly as she sat down, and Daryl could feel the tension in his body fade away. The smile she turned on him, her hand snaking out to rest gently on his thigh, cause a deep sigh of relief to rush from his lungs.

"Missed ya," he whispered.

He was so glad she was back, her healing smile and warm presence easing the ache of anxiety in his chest. She could kill him and raise him from the dead at the same moment, merely with her smile and the endless diversity of the blue in her eyes. He wished he could take a look inside her mind, only a small glimpse of her thoughts. He longed to know what she saw when she looked at him like this.

Wondering if he'd only said that for her to hear, or their captive audience, Carol kept her eyes on him as adoration and a mild hint of skepticism flowed into the serene expression on her face.

"Missed you, too … sorry I took so long," she replied shyly.

She watched as his mouth opened and closed, hesitant as to what to say when the silence was broken by an excited voice.

"Oh! You're so in love! It's wonderful … I'm so happy for you both," Karen said with a radiant smile.

Interrupted by the sudden outburst, the spell was broken and Carol smiled coyly at the woman, feeling as if they'd gotten caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Karen and Tyreese were in the first bloom of love, and therefore, Carol didn't want to read anything into it. Karen thought everyone should be as happy and in love as she was with Ty. Michonne nodded knowingly, a small smile on her lips as Rick snorted next to her. That small derogative sound earned him another elbow to his ribs. He just couldn't let it go, and it left Carol incensed.

"Come along, Rick," Carol snapped, her lips drawn into a thin line of irritation as she stood up. "I think you and I need to have a little chat." His reaction had dissolved the happiness she'd felt just a moment ago. It had been the last drop to cause the barrel to overflow. She hadn't wanted to leave the table, and especially Daryl yet again, but she wouldn't allow Rick to treat him like this any longer. Not for a single second more.

"Carol, I -" Rick began as they came to stand in the hallway outside the ballroom where Carol had led him away from the noise and bustle. She didn't want to have to shout or possibly be overheard.

"NO!" she cut him off, jabbing a finger in the center of his chest. "What could Daryl have possibly done to warrant such an attack from you? I don't know what you said to him earlier, but it has to stop! You will also cease your stupid interjections and the shit looks you've been throwing his way. He's in the midst of strangers, and the first thing you do is give him a hard time. That's not fair!" Carol fumed, making it clear she'd had enough of his attitude. This time she was more than certain about the way she was taking him to task.

"What if he's not good enough for you? You don't even know this guy and I'm sure he hasn't had a chance to get to know you either. What if … what if he hurts you?" he stammered out. Knowing he shouldn't be acting like this, he nevertheless couldn't control his hot-headed behavior. Not with Carol, who he considered not only his friend, but a sister.

Carol crossed her arms over her chest and glared, her eyes twin shards of icy animosity. "Did you ever once stand up to Tobin like this? If anyone deserves your sharp words and venomous looks, it would be him … not Daryl!"

"Carol, Tobin is my boss, I-"

"Yeah, and Daryl is the man I … I … " She closed her eyes briefly, trying to get a handle on her anger. "Daryl isn't a threat nor is he useful to you. That's why you've been so brave and outspoken. Her anger towards Rick - the whole issue - set the blood in her veins on fire. She was furious, which also allowed the words to slip unbidden from her lips. Now, these frenetic statements seemed to burn her tongue.

"Did you just say you love him?" Rick looked at her with raised brows.

"Uhm, no I … I didn't," she stammered as she rubbed her chin nervously.

"But almost, you almost said you love him. Isn't it far too early to fall for him like this? Carol I don't want you to become set on him when perhaps he doesn't feel the same for you. I don't want you to get hurt," Rick's voice became almost soft when he stepped closer and placed a calming hand on her shoulder.

Realizing how much truth Rick's words could contain, she still knew that Daryl hadn't deserved this treatment. It wouldn't be his fault if she would get hurt. He wasn't responsible intentionally for the feelings he caused. It was her, who played with fire, but she needed it and the way he made her feel - maybe even the aching burning and the cold ashes afterwards - after being frozen in ice for years. She could run away from this, but she could also let herself feel it. He was able to make her feel alive.

"Oh, is it so absurd to think that a man like him could be interested in me?" she asked with raised brows.

"Carol, no … that's not what I meant,"

"You still want to protect me, but I can take care of myself, Rick! You not only defended and helped me those days, you also taught me to defend myself," she tried to convince him.

"Wasn't enough, haven't done enough," Rick whispered as his suddenly sad eyes met hers.

"You still blame yourself?" she asked, perplexed.

Rick nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor in shame. "She's dead, Carol … dead," he whispered brokenly.

Surprised by the sudden reminder of her painful past, Carol's eyes widened. "So, it's not about me, but rather you and the remorse you feel," she said quietly as she stepped closer and rested her hand on his shoulder in a show of comfort. "We can't turn back time, and neither of us could've known what would h-happen to her. You did your best … I know this."

"After all those years … everything we've been through … you became a sister to me, Carol. A little sister I want to protect. I can't let this happen again," he murmured.

Carol took a step back as she looked up at him. She understood his intentions, but she couldn't accept his behavior. "I grew up, Rick. I don't need or want you to save me. I don't want you to hold me back because you're afraid. I don't want to be afraid of being alive. If you still want me to call you my friend, you need to leave him alone. It's my life, my decisions and my bruises which I have to feel myself," she said calmly but resolutely.

"You're putting a stranger above me?" Rick asked distraughtly.

She shook her head. "If you care about people, there are people to protect. That's what we have in common. And I will protect a man who means something to me from a man who's going too far with his protective instincts. You have to work some things out for yourself … your remorse. You're still thinking you could've prevented what happened to Sophia. Don't make me pay for the irrational guilt you're feeling," she said as she stepped closer again.

"I'm sorry," was all Rick could say when he took her in his arms, both of them remembering how they'd gotten to know each other and considered what had changed in the past seven years.

Rick knew she was right. He knew if he tried to shelter her from possible harm, he'd not only prevent possible pain, but also everything good she could experience. He couldn't let her live inside a glass bell anymore. And Carol had also been right about his double standards when it came to the men in her life. If Tobin hadn't been his boss, he would've already sliced him into tiny little pieces with the aid of a blunt knife.

"Take care of yourself," Rick said as he released her.

"I will," Carol told him with a sad smile. "And you will get a grip on yourself, Rick! Let's go back; I'm sure dinner has already started."

She returned to the table, to Daryl, just in time, and made a vow not to leave his side again. They belonged to one another this evening.

The warm words Eugene's father used in his speech before dinner made the bridal couple inch closer to one another. "Match for life … so happy you found each other … looking forward to a great future full of love …" Carol sighed at those words and leaned against Daryl's shoulder as he put his arm around her waist to hold her close.

If those words could have just been intended for her and the man who held her. If only they could be real always instead of for just an evening. It was dangerous to allow such thoughts to enter her mind, with it a thin sliver of hope. There was no chance he would want to be with her without the money.

Perhaps this was the reason a lone tear trekked over her cheek as she lost herself in his arms. She hid her pain and focused on the happiness of her friends, a sweet smile perched on her lips. No one needed to see her tears for what they really were, so she smiled, hoping Daryl and the other guests would think her desperate tears were tears of joy and a reaction to the warm words which Eugene's father spoke to the happy couple.

Daryl frowned down at the amount of silverware on either side of his plate, though he tried not to be too obvious. Hadn't it been hard enough to decipher the long-winded descriptions of common food on the small menu card?

Of course Carol noticed his unease as she had a look at the menu he was reading. "I'm as clueless as you are. I think we both should be ready for surprises," she grinned.

Daryl let his eyes wander to the other guests at the table - who looked just as skeptical as they did - the muffled sounds of embarrassed laughter breaking the silence. Even Rick looked as though he was finally coming out of his angry shell as he gave Daryl a light nod and a half smile. Perhaps this was his first attempt at a friendly expression that day.

Nevertheless, Daryl felt like a dumb schoolboy. Of course, Carol had talked to the man about him when they'd left the table, and Rick seemed to be content with leaving his animosity behind from then on.

Daryl didn't want her to come to his defense against others; it made him feel weak. He couldn't remember if anyone had ever stood up against someone else to protect him. All his life he'd had to fight for himself, sometimes in vain and sometimes he hadn't even tried to fight. That's how he'd become a lone wolf, shying away from human beings and the disappointment which they could cause.

Carol was different, however. He didn't know if she'd done it for him because she cared or she'd only done it to protect the charade they played together. It disconcerted him and gave rise to feelings he was unable to identify.

The appetizer was some kind of soup, but that was all he could be certain of. Glad to be able to use a spoon, he still mused at the green color which made it look toxic rather than delicious.

The rest of the three-course meal - peppered with small-talk from his table mates - was as extraordinary as the starter, but Daryl was rewarded for his boldness to try new things. He was pretty surprised at how good it was. Trying his best to eat without attracting attention - he was used to sandwiches or burgers after all - he remembered the meal Deanna had cooked for him when he'd visited her. It had been good preparation for eating in public. Bless her heart!

Carol couldn't help but look at the man beside her, admiration shining in her eyes. She could sense his insecurities, and his efforts were even more precious to her. He wasn't at all used to situations like this, yet he tried … for her.

"God, Carol, did you know Maggie made the cakes?" Michonne suddenly blurted out excitedly.

"I could die for Maggie's cake! I hope it's a king-size version of her famous chocolate bomb!" Carol replied cheerfully.

"Yeah, I also can't wait to see the groom's cake," Michonne said. "She told me her little sister helped her, but she wouldn't tell me what they came up with," she added, rolling her eyes. She could keep secrets well, but she hated it when she wasn't involved.

After dinner - when the door opened and two young women carried the big cake into the hall - Daryl winced. There was the petite blonde he'd run away from an eternity ago. Why the hell couldn't he find any peace at this damn wedding?

 **Notes:**

 **I hope you still like this story! I will update regularly from now on! Let me know what you think!**

 **Thank you to CharlotteAshmore for her great work as always!**


	23. Chapter 23 - The Wedding Part IV

**Chapter Notes:**

 **I'm hesitant with posting here, to be honest. I don't get much feedback here and the feedback I'm getting isn't always good. Some people seem to have issues about how I'm writing Carol. I'm sorry, but I'm writing her how I see her on the show. Sometimes she's weak, sometimes she's strong ... sometimes too quiet, sometimes on point and sometimes over the top. I remember the way she was talking to Sam when he caught her with the weapons and I was like ...** _ **whoa, woman, what the hell is gotten into you?**_ **I see her as a woman who's still learning and still trying to find herself. It's ok to disagree and I know that every one of you has a different point of view. I appreciate your opinion to this! But criticism can discourage a writer sometimes, especially with the first story. I have to get a thick skin! :)**

 **I know, that there are still people who are reading, so I will post and maybe you will enjoy the next chapter! :)**

 **BTW, I'm not a native and still pretty new to the fandom and the language. My story is betaed but not this little shout out. So if you find some grammar issues, they are mine! :)**

 **OOOOO**

For someone with a genius IQ, Eugene had absolutely no hand-eye coordination. Therefore, it wasn't a big surprise when he dropped the cake - the long-awaited and much longed-for chocolate bomb - into the bodice of his bride's wedding gown instead of her open mouth. Olivia should have been angry, his faux pas devaluing her gorgeous gown by at least a thousand dollars, but she took it in stride, laughing as she tried to eat the cream which had made it to her mouth. The laughter ringing through the ballroom was deafening as the guests joined in.

The noise pollution made by the multitude of laughing guests was just the distraction Daryl needed to avert unwanted attention away from his shocked expression caused by the little blonde girl. Of course, she noticed him too. Their table sat just a bit too close to the heart of the action. She, in turn, seemed surprised, as well, the moment she recognized him. It didn't take her long to skeptically eye the woman at his side as her shock wore off.

Olivia's aim was a bit better as she fed her husband his own piece of cake. He smacked it delightedly, grinning widely before she smeared what remained on her fingers all over his face. Another reason the guests burst out into another round of raucous laughter.

Daryl tried to smile every time Carol's sweet giggling face met his, secretly bemoaning the fact that he wasn't able to _enjoy_ seeing her so light-hearted. He'd never seen her laugh like this. Her eyes shone with an inner light of happiness, a blush of excitement tinged her cheek, and her bright smile was so lovely it almost hurt.

He wasn't worried he wouldn't know how to deal with the blonde; no, the problem was that she was _there_ in the first place. Anywhere else, he would have simply ignored her or given her a sharp word to frighten her away, but here at the wedding, she was his enemy, a ticking time bomb who had the power to destroy the lie he'd created for Carol and her friends.

The laughter increased when the groom's cake was presented. Maggie had outdone herself with the replica of an oversized Nintendo Game Boy, a sweet white almond cake with raspberry filling covered in bright yellow fondant. It nearly brought tears to Eugene's dark eyes. While he appreciated the latest technology when it came to his bank of computers at the office, he nevertheless loved to play with the outdated piece of yellowed plastic while waiting in one of the cars while his co-workers took care of other tasks. Some days they'd include Eugene as part of the observation team while they stormed buildings for massive police deployments. It was safer allowing him to _observe_ rather than being a member of the task force. It was safer for everyone involved. Later, he would use his skills in his lab analyzing the progression of events.

OOO

Daryl paused mid-step as he heard the quiet but hurried steps behind him as he headed in the direction of the men's room. "Can't a man just take a piss in peace?" he snapped, looking at the blonde girl following him.

Shocked by his sharp tone, she winced, a furious blush coloring her cheeks. She took a step back, her eyes widening as he came closer. She hadn't expected the hunter to become the prey when she'd gone after him. Thankfully, the hallway was deserted, and no one would be privy to their conversation.

"Uhm, I just … n-nice to see you here," she stammered.

"No, it ain't," he snorted. "And it would be great if ya would leave me alone and stop followin' me."

"Is she a client?" The girl - Beth, if he remembered correctly - asked.

Daryl's eyes narrowed menacingly, his voice low and filled with venom. He did _not_ need this tonight. "Ain't none of yer goddamn business. She's my girlfriend and ya better not say a single word to anyone, got me?" he snarled.

"Doesn't she know about your job?" Beth just couldn't let it go, her curiosity having gotten the better of her, and continued to grill him with questions.

"It ain't my job anymore, and ya better look like keepin' what ya know to yerself. Don't forget, ya can't tell my secrets without revealin' yer own."

The blonde girl nodded, hating to admit he was right. She couldn't risk someone finding out just _how_ she knew him. She was known as a reputable girl, and wanted to keep her image untarnished. If Maggie ever found out, her older sister would never let her live it down and no doubt tell Beth's boyfriend and their father about it.

"One last question?" she whispered shyly.

"What now?" Daryl spat, arching a brow at her.

"Why did you run away?" she asked sheepishly.

Daryl looked at her like he had a nasty taste in his mouth. "I ain't into little girls. That's jus' sick! An' ya shouldn't be looking to gain experience with a complete stranger, especially when ya have a boyfriend waitin' for ya at home," Daryl told her honestly. "An' now if ya don't mind, I'm gonna go take a piss … _alone_ ," he added as he abandoned her to push through the door of the men's room.

Beth crossed her arms over her chest, irritated over the entire issue, glaring at the door as it closed behind him. The fact that he'd rejected her - though she'd wanted to pay him - still upset her. He should've done what he'd been hired to do. In her wildest dreams, she never would have thought a paid escort would reject _her._

Nevertheless, she had no choice if she didn't want her reputation in tatters. She'd just have to pretend she didn't know him. She was just thankful she'd be able to leave soon, her job as her sister's assistant finally over.

Daryl had just told the girl Carol was his girlfriend, and it hadn't felt as strange as he'd thought it would. The word _client_ just didn't seem right in his mind. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd thought of her that way. But there was more truth in the other _lie_ he'd told her. Officially, he was still an escort, but he just couldn't imagine doing his job anymore. Since that second meeting with Carol, he hadn't been able to perform for his other clients. The mere thought of sex with another woman sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Daryl thought back to the time he'd imagined Carol was a witch who'd cursed him, and though it was a fanciful notion, it was partly true. Every trick he'd learned to control his body became useless after he'd met her. In the past, he'd been able to separate his mind from his body when it came to sex. It had been the only thing he could do to distance himself and let his body do its job. It had been the only way it had worked for him, but since Carol, he couldn't do it anymore. She'd put his body and soul back together and made him feel everything with his whole being. Her fingertips on his skin always sent a shiver through him and sent his mind reeling into chaos; an experience he hadn't even known existed before. It was bliss. _She_ had made him receptive for this bliss, but she'd also caused a weak spot which could damage him completely.

Daryl knew all too well - practically to the moment - when he'd begun building his walls in a bid to protect himself, separating his mind and body. It had been imperative when his father's daily abuses had become a part of his life. It had become necessary - easier in a way - to only allow himself to feel the physical pain his old man had meted out against his body rather than suffering the trauma deep down in his soul, letting his mind escape to a better place when the pain had become unbearable. It had helped him survive. The healing process of his physical injuries had been difficult enough. He didn't want to think about how broken his mind would have been if he hadn't found some way to cope.

OOO

Carol's scrutinizing gaze raked over Daryl as she mused if he'd be the type of man who liked dancing. The other guests filled the dance floor slowly but steadily, and she really wanted to join in. She wanted to be a part of the crowd spread out before her having a good time. Almost as if he could read her mind, he copied the questioning glance she projected. It seemed as though he wanted to fulfill her wish - whether out of his sense of duty towards her or because of his own personal motivation - she couldn't be quite sure.

Averting her gaze to prevent an uncomfortable situation, she just sipped her glass of wine and let her eyes wander over the dancers. She shouldn't expect too much from him, no more than he was willing to give.

"Wanna dance?" Daryl suddenly asked, standing shyly but resolutely in front of her with a question in those steel-blue eyes.

Carol was pretty surprised he was being so proactive. He must've sensed the wit of expectation she'd tried to hide before. "I don't expect anything, Daryl. You don't have to -"

He shook his head, a half-moon grin curling up one side of his mouth. "Come on, the song is slow enough I won't crush yer feet, an' I know ya wanna," he explained.

"Daryl, I-"

"Stahp! Ya tryin' to make me look like a jerk, standin' here askin' ya to dance, and ya sayin' no?" he grinned sheepishly. "Gonna try my best, I promise," he added as he reached for her hand.

Heat rose in her face, leaving her cheeks tinted a lovely pink as she nodded and took his trembling hand with a shy smile. Of course, she couldn't say no to him.

Daryl led her out onto the floor amidst the throng of dancers, feeling like an awkward teenager at prom, and he was sure Carol was feeling the same simply from her posture. He slid his arms around her waist as her hands came to rest on his shoulders, swaying slightly to the music as the slow song allowed them to adjust to something neither of them had much experience with.

They were quietly surprised how easy it was. No one had gotten hurt so far, and it seemed like a good sign, allowing them both to breathe easy and relax.

"You've done this before," she whispered, looking up into his eyes.

"Not really. I'm sorry I'm not better at this … proper dance steps and stuff, y'know?" he replied, shame coloring his voice.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. It's been a while for me too. I guess the last time I danced was … uhm … at m-my own wedding," her last words barely a whisper. "And you're already better at this than he was," she added with a half smile.

"Remember that really popular movie that came out in the late eighties? That dancin' movie with this guy and the girl with the curls? My mom tried to teach me - she loved that movie - but I made it hard for her," he told her.

Daryl should feel proud for the compliment she'd given him, yet shame coursed through him with the onset of old memories. Wanting to distract her from his bitter thoughts, he instead talked about his experiences with dancing. Those memories wouldn't sound as sad to Carol as they were for him because she didn't know the truth. His mom teaching him to dance was one of the best memories he had - one of only a few - rare and precious.

It seemed as though the DJ must've heard every word of their conversation, for when the song ended, the first strains of _She's Like the Wind_ swept through the ballroom, and neither of them could fight the smiles blooming over their faces.

Carol didn't know if it was because of his strong grip on her waist as he held her tighter than before or if the wine made her thoughtless, but she allowed herself to lean into him, her cheek coming to rest against his chest. Her mind whirled, once again second-guessing herself, wondering if she'd crossed a line, but he put her fears to rest, welcoming her closeness as he brushed his chin against her soft hair.

Listening to the music, he closed his eyes, soaking up everything her embrace offered him. Her scent was intoxicating, her soft hair tickling his nose as her body pressed into him so tightly he could feel her warmth and the steady beat of her heart. Unfortunately, the lyrics burned in his mind ravaged his heart. _Can't look in her eyes … She's out of my league … Just a fool to believe I have anything she needs … She's like the wind._ He knew the picture they presented to the other guests was everything she wanted - two people hopelessly in love - but the reality was somewhat different. The ache built in his chest to know she didn't love him, could never love him.

Raising his head, Daryl took a much needed deep breath and allowed his eyes to wander over the crowd on the dance floor. There was her asshole ex with his secretary - both staring daggers of resentment at them - and Carol's best friend with Rick and the bridal couple. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. He was one of them in a way. He was meant to pretend, but he was enjoying himself. It tasted bittersweet on his tongue, the thought of his feelings being one-sided towards the woman in his arms.

The closeness between them must have been too much for him. Carol felt his body - which had molded so perfectly against hers before - tense, and she sensed his longing for distance. Why had she thrust herself upon him this way? She should be grateful he was even there with her, thankful he'd offered to dance with her when it put him so far out of his comfort zone. Frightening him away was the last thing she wanted. Michonne's advice of having another glass of wine to relax hadn't been the best, she realized. Carol should be able to hold herself together without liquid courage.

"Daryl?" she whispered as she looked up to find his eyes. "It was kind of you to dance with me, but we can go back … back to the table if you want."

"Naw, it's alright … I jus' -" His words trailed away, losing himself in her eyes, just as he did every time he was encountered with such a soft look into those azure depths. A second before, he'd tried to separate himself from her, a bid to protect his heart, and here it was again, this just-kiss-her moment. Yet he couldn't - he shouldn't - especially with the crowd surrounding them, staring at them. He should've known better, but the voices in his head quieted as his face inched closer to hers.

 _Is this really happening? Now? Why?_ Carol asked herself as Daryl slowly moved closer. Her heart sunk as realization struck her, knowing this was all part of his boyfriend-act. She wanted it so badly, but as she became aware of his intentions, seeing clearly _why_ he was suddenly willing to kiss her, she couldn't allow it, even if it would be sheer bliss to taste his lips if only for a brief moment.

She broke the moment by brushing her cheek over his and laid her hand gently against his other cheek as she whispered in his ear. "You don't have to. I'm grateful for everything you're doing, but I don't want you to do anything you don't want … not for _them_."

Carol pulled away from him, taking his hand to lead him back to the table, and putting the situation behind them. She changed her mind about Michonne's earlier advice _again_ and ordered another glass of wine. She really needed to relax. Daryl's earlier offer to bring her home after the wedding - if she wouldn't mind him driving her car - was much appreciated now. Of course, she wouldn't mind.

OOO

"Damn, Dixon … seems like you're the next! Congratulations, asshole!" Abraham snorted next to Rosita as they sat at the bar with Daryl, Carol, Michonne and Rick.

When a chair had been positioned on the dance floor a few minutes earlier, he'd had no fucking clue what the hell he would be in for. Suddenly, Daryl had been pushed out on the dance floor with Tyreese, Abraham and the rest of the bachelors as the groom had tried to remove his bride's garter from her thigh as gracefully as possible. The crowd in the hall had laughed and cheered, and before he'd been able to figure out this particular wedding ritual, and what it would mean to _catch_ the garter, the piece of baby-blue lace had landed smack in the middle of his chest.

Both of his hands had risen reflexively to grab the item, and his shocked gaze had taken in the knowing eyes of the guests. Next thing he'd known, congratulations had been offered amidst the backslapping and good-natured chuckles, making him the center of attention.

An excited Carol had run towards him, pulling him into a tight embrace as she'd whispered almost desperately into his ear. _Play along, Daryl. Please play along!_

Some people had even asked for their wedding date, but Carol had quickly diffused the awkwardness, telling the curious crowd how newly together they were. Gratefully!

Now, she was sitting next to him, caressing his thigh and giggling at Abe's comment. "We have plenty of time, Abraham. I'm pretty sure, however; it will be you and Rosita giving us reason to celebrate next."

Abraham nodded with a knowing grin and looked over at Daryl. "First, you have to get your ass back to my tattoo shop, man. We have to do something about that mess on your back before you marry this fine woman," he chuckled.

"You know each other?" Carol asked, pretty surprised.

Abe nodded and finished off his beer. "Of course, he's probably the most challenging client I've ever had. He's been to my studio a couple of times, but he just couldn't find the right tattoo for his back. I'm pretty good at cover-ups, y'know? Even with really hard cases like his."


	24. Chapter 24 - Take Me Home

**Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! I appreciate them! It's wonderful to know you're reading! :)**

OOO

As the man continued talking, Daryl shot him a shut-the-fuck-up look, but Abraham just wouldn't cease his diatribe. The tattoo artist was the only person - other than the doctors, his brother and Merle's buddy who'd made the ugly tattoos - who had seen the scars on his back. Of course, Abraham had _needed_ to take a look at his back to know what he would have to work with.

A puzzled frown creased Abraham's wide brow as he finally seemed to realize how uncomfortable the topic seemed to make Daryl, though he couldn't understand why. "Carol, would you mind a new tattoo on your man's back? I mean … it can't get any worse, right?"

Daryl found it difficult to hide his discomfort as he ran a hand over his heated face, feeling beads of sweat rising on his brow. He'd been so hopeful Abe wouldn't cause problems tonight. Now the man was very close to divulging two secrets in the same breath - his fake relationship with Carol and the issue of his scars. _FUCK!_

Carol cleared her throat, at a loss for how to respond to Abraham's seemingly innocent question. How could she, if she'd never laid eyes on Daryl's back? He'd told her about the few _ugly_ tattoos, but she'd never seen them. This little detail could become her downfall now.

"Daryl knows what's best for his body. It's his decision … his alone. Regardless of what he decides, he's still a very handsome man," she eventually answered, trying to give a neutral response. Her hand glided gently over Daryl's back as she gave him a small smile of admiration.

Instead of tensing - which was his natural response - as she brushed over such a sensitive area, her touched calmed him. Her contact had extinguished the fire which had burned there since the issue had arisen. It was different, and made him feel something unexpected … acceptance. Even though Carol had no idea as to what was hidden beneath his clothes, she seemed to accept it … accept _him._ Taking a deep, calming breath, Daryl prayed Carol's words would invite no more discussion on the subject.

"See, your lady is all in." Abraham grinned as he gave Daryl's shoulder a pat. "You picked yourself a wonderful woman, Dixon. And, Carol, you chose yourself one helluva guy. I'm so glad you're not with that pathetic son of a bitch anymore!"

"Abe!" Rosita glared at him and quickly gave him an elbow into his side.

"What? I don't work for the fucker anymore," Abraham snarled. "I can say whatever the hell I want. I washed my hands of that asshole when he gave up Francine's cover during the last operation I worked with them. She'd almost been overpowered by the perps as that sorry excuse for a cop left her to save his own cowardly ass!" he explained angrily, his eyes narrowed to mere slits.

Rick nodded. "And you saved her, man!"

"Damn … Francine," Abraham sighed sadly. "That idiot was lucky he wasn't involved when she died in a gunfight a few months later. It's why I left the military and later the police force. I just can't watch people die anymore. I wanna do something good, wanna make people happy," he said, a bittersweet smile on his face.

Abraham never regretted that he'd made a profession of his hobby - his passion - and fulfilled a long-cherished wish with setting up a business of his own.

Carol smiled respectfully at the man, but was also even more disappointed by the police chief who'd been her boyfriend once. Tobin was a coward, not the man of honor he'd always led her to believe he was. Unlike the man who sat next to her. She knew, without a doubt, Daryl would never let someone down in such a sordid manner. He _was_ a man of honor in the purest sense of the word.

OOO

 _All the single ladies … all the single ladies …_

Nearly every soul packed into the ballroom - most of which were more than a little drunk - knew what was coming when the DJ let Beyonce's voice roar out of the loudspeakers. The meaningful song filled the hall with anticipation and the dance floor with bachelorettes.

Carol happened to be one of them, and Daryl couldn't help but toss a mischievous grin in her direction as Michonne grabbed Carol's hand to push her into the crowd of hysterical women. They shoved and nudged one another with their elbows, regardless of possible bruises, as Olivia positioned herself, standing with her back to the ladies, ready to throw the much sought after bouquet.

While Carol stayed out of the fight, she watched the pack skeptically. Perhaps it was the wine slowing her synapses, but she needed some time to realize what was going on. But after a short moment, she was sure. The shoving and nudging wasn't a fight between the women to get the bouquet, but rather a deliberate act to push their _target_ to the front.

The flowers flew through the air - almost in slow motion - as the tension in the hall reached a fever pitch, followed by an eerie silence when the bouquet found its mark. Laughter and applause rose once again as the other women stepped back from their positions and Carol - who stood on the fringes of the crowd - finally got an eyeful of the woman who'd caught the coveted prize … Paula.

The lucky lady didn't look happy at all, but rather indignant. It seemed as though she hadn't been eager at all to catch the bouquet, and Carol had to press a hand over her mouth to bite back a fit of laughter.

Michonne was the first to run to Paula to congratulate the slightly shocked woman. "Oh my god! Just look at the flowers, Paula! You must be thrilled to have caught them!" Michonne gushed with a wide grin. "Where's your happy fiancee? I want to be the first to give him my best wishes!"

Paula glared at the woman like Michonne had killed her puppy before her eyes wandered to Tobin, seeking help. Yet, instead of running to his woman, Tobin remained seated at the table, watching the scene, his arms crossed over his chest as his face suffused with fifty shades of angry red.

The more people who came to shake Paula's hand and congratulate her, the more disgusted her expression became. She looked like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any second. Meanwhile, Tobin had shifted his posture and was now holding his face in his hands, no doubt silently hoping the floor would open and swallow him whole.

Paula dropped the bouquet at her feet before stamping furiously to the table to fetch her purse. She yelled something at her date, her arms gesticulating wildly, but Carol could only guess what she'd said to him. No professions of love; that was pretty obvious to everyone. Paula's next destination was the hall door, where she disappeared to escape the knowing eyes of the guests. Tobin stood up, and Carol thought he'd go after the redhead, but instead, he headed to the bar, wishing to drink his troubles away.

"How the hell did you do this, Michonne? I don't know how, but I know YOU did this!" Carol slurred at her best friend while she tried to catch her breath from laughing.

Michonne grinned proudly. "Honey, how often have I told you that you need to join Facebook?"

"What are you talking about?" Carol knitted her brows skeptically.

"It's so useful, darling! There are these group chats where you can invite people to write with them … many people … and these people know other people and other people-" Michonne wanted to explain how she'd made the plan work, but before she could finish the sentence her words were lost in another fit of laughter.

Carol shook her head, and couldn't help but join in with Michonne's laughter. "You're so … so -"

" … evil, right? Yes I am!" Michonne admitted as she hugged Carol.

All the single ladies had been crazy after the bouquet, but they might have been much crazier about teaching Paula a lesson. Most of them worked at the police department, and saw it as a major coup to plot against the nasty secretary - who thought she was the first lady - and give her some payback.

OOO

Eugene and Olivia - having changed into their going away outfits - exited the hotel to a barrage of rice and calls of congratulations as they made their way to the white stretched limousine which would take them to the airport. It also meant the wedding party would be winding down soon, and Daryl felt relieved by this, knowing he'd survived the worst. There had been some good moments, but he couldn't help but feel out of place and a bit vulnerable.

Although the newlyweds had left, there were still a myriad of guests who desired to make the most of the rest of the evening. The stumbling drunks - with glassy eyes, weird expressions and uncoordinated movements - still wandered among the dance floor and the bar, accompanied by the risk of accidents their inebriated state could cause.

Michonne and Carol stood at one of the small, round high tables near the bar, animatedly discussing the latest subject of the wedding, swaying unsteadily after the amount of wine they'd consumed over the course of the evening. Paula and Tobin's evening would go down in history under the rubric _Horror Date_. The women's arms rested on the table in a bid to steady themselves. Both really needed something to grip tightly in their current state.

"I still can't believe you did this, Michonne," Carol snorted. "And you know what? I'm so glad I wasn't involved. I would've laughed myself to tears and probably goofed up the game … or I would've convinced you to let it be. It was really mean," Carol added, the words stumbling clumsily out of her mouth.

"I'm just glad I wasn't one of them. It was safer to leave the special operation to the professionals!" Michonne babbled, smiling at the thought of the police woman who'd wanted so badly to get back at the uppity secretary. "And, yeah, I couldn't risk you ruining my plan with your stupid rationality!"

Carol winced and let out a shrill scream when suddenly Daryl approached and hugged her from behind.

"Shit, sorry … didn't mean to scare ya," he muttered, not having expected such a reaction from her.

"Oh no, you just caught me off guard," Carol smiled and relaxed as she leaned into him.

He held her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before his chin came to rest on her shoulder. As long as they were there, he could show his affection, but damn, he should've known better than to creep up on her. "Uhm … I jus' wanted to tell ya the party's almost over. So, if ya wanna leave, jus' lemme know an' I'll bring ya home, a'right?" he whispered against her ear.

"Soon," Carol sighed, enjoying his embrace. "Just a few more minutes. Girls need to talk, you know?"

"No hurry, sweetheart. Gonna go have a smoke outside … need some fresh air. I'll be back soon," he said, looking over at Michonne. "An' you take care of my girl, yeah?"

Michonne nodded and grinned mischievously. "I will!"

Watching him go, Michonne still couldn't help grinning like a Cheshire cat. "When did you stop paying him?"

Carol let out a bittersweet laugh. "I will probably stop paying him when my accounts are empty … after I've sold my car and moved into a shabby one-room apartment. I probably shouldn't let that happen though, right?" she smiled sadly.

Michonne shook her head in disbelief. "You're telling me you're still paying him? That boy's got it bad … really bad! I just don't believe it."

"I know, he's pretty good at this-"

"Now way, honey. I'm not blind. It's just not possible he's pretending. Not even he can be that good," Michonne interrupted her.

"I think we need more wine," Carol slurred. "Let's go the bar!"

She hadn't wanted to discuss the issue any longer. Daryl was so good at this boyfriend act, he'd even convinced her best friend his feelings were real. The reality hit her hard, and she found she needed more wine.

The women made their way to the bar arm in arm to have one last drink. Their glasses were nearly empty when they noticed the ruckus in the hall, and suddenly saw other guests pushing forward in swarms to the exit. Michonne and Carol looked on, confused when they heard Bob yelling, "Whoo-hoo! Rumble outside!" and followed the mob.

OOO

 _Outside of the hotel … five minutes earlier._

Taking a deep, calming breath, Daryl reveled in the fresh air and relative silence outside. It had just been too loud and sticky in the hall, the press of so many bodies making him long for an escape. He took a long puff from his cigarette and let his eyes wander to the incredible beauty of the starry sky. He couldn't wait to take Carol back to her apartment, and was looking forward to some alone-time with her, even it if was only for the drive home.

"Did she really spread her legs for you, asshole?"

Daryl's thoughts were roughly interrupted by Carol's ex, who approached, spewing his vile words as he stopped next to him. "What th' hell? You'd better shut th' fuck up about her!" Daryl spat.

Tobin laughed, a mirthless sound which grated on Daryl's nerves. "It seems there's a tough guy under that suit. I know men like you … I've put them in prison from time to time." The man's eyes narrowed. "I've watched you. You don't belong here. You're nothing but a plaything to her. Redneck trash; that's all you are. All those people inside the hall … they're laughing at you behind your back. You know that, don't you? I've got news for you, son. One of these days, she's gonna scrape you off her heels like the shit you are!"

"I said, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Daryl hissed as he tried to hold his shit together.

The tall - and obviously quite intoxicated - man took a step closer and grinned. "What's the problem? Having difficulties getting into her pants? She's pretty drunk. I never got her _this_ drunk. Even someone like you might have a chance of scoring with her tonight … or I will if you're not man enough," he slurred.

Daryl felt his blood ignite, sending it to a roiling boil and triggering his temper, his control but a memory. It had been enough the man could see who Daryl really was, but this was about Carol. Daryl couldn't just let this asshole talk about her like this. Unimpressed by the man's large stature, Daryl angrily grabbed him by the collar in a lightning fast move. "Ya stay th' hell away from Carol, ya hear me?" he hissed, his brows knitted and his mouth a thin line of disgust as he felt the anger coursing throughout his entire body.

"Or what?"

"Ya better piss off, asshole!"

"Or what?" Tobin repeated tauntingly.

The police chief was trying to goad Daryl into a fight. He knew this, yet it didn't sway the rage burning through him. Daryl's fist landed in one of Tobin's eyes and made the man reel, but it didn't stop Tobin from lunging at Daryl, the two of them crashing down onto the concrete.

Tobin was tall and outweighed him, but he was drunk and uncoordinated, giving Daryl the advantage. Struggling with the limp sod on top of him, Daryl finally shoved the man onto his back. Every attempted punch Tobin tried, missed its aim. Daryl was small compared to the giant, but he was sober and much more skilled. Being a redneck - who had been used to drunken bar brawls in the past - gave him the upper hand in this situation.

Straddling Carol's ex, Daryl nevertheless had his hands full with making sure he wouldn't get punched as he tried to bring the man beneath him under control.

"Shit! Stop it, Dixon!" Abraham yelled as he came upon the men fighting. This was not what he'd expected to find when he'd come out to have a smoke in peace.

It wasn't easy for Abraham to pry Daryl - the adrenaline fueling his rage making him inhumanly strong - off of his former boss. Abe had to admit a furious Dixon was hard to handle.

As if the other guests had smelled the fight outside, the entrance area was suddenly filled with people, yelling and whistling as if spurring on the fighters of a boxing match.

"Dixon, he isn't worth it, man! Get away from that asshole," Abraham yelled, finally getting through to Daryl. He released the man beneath him and accepted Abe's offered hand, rising to his feet and squashing his desire to kick Tobin while he was down.

Both men stared at each other in understanding as they tried to catch their breath before glaring down at Tobin who was still lying on the ground.

"It's good to see you still know where you belong, brother," Tobin said to Abraham, a smarmy grin on his face as he reached out, expecting Abraham's hand to help him to his feet. But there wasn't one.

Instead, the police chief suddenly made the acquaintance of his former employee's stout-hearted fist, which landed squarely in his clueless face. "I finally got to do what I always wanted … what I should have done a long time ago, asshole!" He turned to the guests. "Get this piece of shit an ambulance to fix his busted nose!" Abe crowed victoriously.

Abraham shot Daryl a half grin and slapped him on the back before they turned to the mob near the entrance. "Haven't you all seen enough? Move along!"

The guests just giggled and nodded as they went back to the hall.

"Oh my god, Daryl!" Carol cried out, stumbling to him as fast as she could. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, that guy had no chance," he said with a half smile before he took her in his arms. " … I'm alright, darlin'!"

"Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

"Take me home," Carol whispered in his ear as he held her.

"Of course, let's go home," he quietly replied.

There was nothing Tobin could do but watch the couple disappear into the night while he was forced to sit and wait for the ambulance … _alone_.

OOO

They'd said their goodbyes and he'd led her to the car after the long eventful evening full of awkward situations. Some had been funny where others had been the complete opposite, but in the end, Daryl was relieved it was over.

As soon as Carol's body touched the car seat, her eyes fell closed. Daryl fastened her seatbelt and let his eyes linger on her for a moment. She depended on him, trusted him, to care for her in such a vulnerable state, and he wouldn't let her down. He would make sure she made it home and into her bed safe and sound.

Daryl gently brushed his thumb over her cheek, and a pleased sigh escaped her lips. It made him smile. "I'm takin' ya home now, sweetheart," he whispered before rounding the hood of the car and taking his place behind the wheel.

When Carol opened her eyes, she dreamily admired him as he drove her car towards her home. The image of his masculine profile driving her cute little vehicle was slightly odd, but also adorable. "Your mom did well," she eventually mumbled as she stared at him in awe.

Daryl had thought she was asleep, so he winced slightly at her words in surprise. "What? What do ya mean?" he asked quietly as his eyes wandered over to her before returning to the road.

"The dance … she taught you well. She must be very proud of her wonderful son. Thank you for everything you did tonight, Daryl."

"We're almost there … gonna bring ya inside then," he replied, trying to change the topic quickly.

After Daryl had parked the car, he got out quickly and opened the passenger side door for Carol. "Can ya walk?"

"Of course," she replied as she stood up and then promptly stumbled into his arms with a giggle.

"I got ya," he grinned, holding her close. She'd obviously had too much wine, he mused.

Carol covered her mouth with her hand as another girlish giggle escaped. "I'm so sorry … I guess you'll have to carry me over the threshold now, hm?"

"Pfft! Have to get yer drunken ass to bed somehow, right?" he smirked, lifting her easily into his arms as he set off towards her door.

Carol responded happily with a surprised squeak as she suddenly found herself in his strong arms, her own wrapping around his neck as she clung to him. "Yes, Daryl … let's go to bed," she sighed, losing herself in the dark stormy seas of his eyes.


	25. Chapter 25 - Sweet Dreams

**Thank you for still hanging on and your wonderful reviews! *hugs***

Daryl almost dropped her - his Carol who felt so amazingly wonderful in his arms - when both struggled clumsily with the key. Carol's lack of fine motor skills - due to the outrageous quantity of wine she'd consumed - was a deterrent, and Daryl - the obliging gentleman that he was - needed both arms to carry her.

Somehow, they managed it - accompanied by his mumbled curses and a few giggles Carol couldn't manage to bite back - but they made it into the apartment. She managed to kick her shoes off while still in his arms, her heels landing against the baseboards in the dark hallway with two loud thumps. Carol groaned, the sudden impact of blinding light making her quint and hide her face against his shoulder as Daryl found the light switch.

"Bed, Daryl, bed!" she sighed.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, heading off in the direction of her bedroom. He kicked the door open and bore her over to the bed, setting her upon the cool sheets as gently as possible, a relieved breath rushing from his lungs as he sat beside her and took his shoes off.

"Does this mean I'm too heavy?" she slurred.

He chuckled. "Naw, jus' glad we finally made it. Need help with anythin'?"

"This goddamn dress … could you …?" Carol tried to turn onto her side and reached desperately for the zipper as she groaned.

Shaking his head in amusement, watching her flailing limbs, he leaned over and reached for the zipper. The fabric parted, giving him a glimpse of her creamy flesh, and he could feel his hands trembling. Despite how many times he'd seen her in various states of undress, it still caused a little thrill to rush through his body with each new experience. Easing the dress over her shoulders and down her hips left his mouth watering, but he quickly pushed his own desires to the back of his mind.

"Damn, woman!" he groaned, straightening and taking her in where she lay clad only in her underthings. The breath hitched in his throat, and he felt his cock twitch in excitement. Aside from the familiar bustier and the satin underwear, she also wore a garter belt and sheer black stockings. _Good Lord! Is she trying to kill me?!_

Carol sighed blissfully as she laid back against her soft, cool pillow, a mischievous grin etching her lips. "See anything you like?" she teasingly whispered, her glassy eyes fixed on him lustfully.

Daryl dropped back to the bed beside her and traced a finger ever so lightly over the top of the lacy belt at her waist. "Uhm … I didn't expect anythin' like this, but … yeah, it's nice. I like it," he whispered shyly after he took the time to clear his throat.

Carol smiled, biting her lip - in what she hoped was a seductive manner - and reached for his tie, pulling him close in a swift, clumsy move.

Daryl's lips parted on a surprised gasp as he fought for balance, but it was futile, and he found himself slipping easily between her thighs which held his hips tightly in place like a vise. She smiled, her gaze drifting to his lips, her grip firm on his tie as she pressed her heat against his groin. His body responded immediately, his eyes closing for but a moment, relishing the feel of her sweet center spreading warmth where he needed it most. Neither control nor even a wee bit of luck were on his side.

"Carol! Stahp this … we shou -" he managed to croak out, grinding his teeth as he wrestled with the sensations she evoked in him.

"Oh, Daryl, you feel so good," she moaned against the shell of his ear, one of her hands skimming over his hip to knead his ass as she thrust her hips closer to his. The thin fabric of his suit trousers did him no favors either as his pulsing erection pressed painfully hard against her core.

"SHIT! STAHP!" he groaned, finally finding the willpower to free himself from her grip. "What the fuck's gotten into you?" he panted, rising to his knees to look down at her, his breathless words colored with shock, disbelief and a twinge of anger. "My 'stop' counts just as much as yours, don't it?"

"I'm sorry. I thought we could … uhm … I thought you _wanted_ to take me to bed," she slurred, reaching blindly for the duvet to cover herself, a sudden wave of shame causing a blush to spread from her chest to the tips of her ears. "I'm sorry," she apologized again in an embarrassed whisper. "Sometimes I seem to forget I'm paying you for all this … that you don't … that you _couldn't_ want me … that you don't even want to kiss me when no one is looking." She sniffled. "You can go home, Daryl. You did a good job today," she whispered, trying to hide her face behind the blanket so he wouldn't see her tears.

"Carol, I-"

"No, it's okay … I had too much wine … I'm sorry I did this. I know it was wrong," she wailed.

Daryl took a deep fortifying breath and inched closer, resting his brow against her shoulder. He hadn't meant to be so harsh with her, but he'd had no other choice. "Yeah, ya had too much wine … an' y'know … it shouldn't happen like this. Yer drunk, an' I don't want ya to do somethin' tonight you'll regret in the mornin'. I'm not some guy who would take advantage of a drunken woman, Carol," he made clear. The disgusting words of her ex reverberated in his skull and turned his stomach. He was still completely repulsed by the man's behavior and outright disregard for Carol's feelings.

There was no doubt Daryl wanted to kiss her. He wanted to rip every last shred of clothing from them both and explore her at his leisure, to bury himself deep inside of her and lose himself in her scent, her touch, her essence. But he couldn't do that, _wouldn't_ take advantage of her inebriated state. He'd never be able to look at himself in the mirror again without seeing what a dirty little bastard he'd become. He'd be no better than her ex. That asshole would've taken what he wanted with no qualms about what it would do to Carol. Daryl had something the other man lacked … honor and integrity.

Carol's teary eyes found his, remorse hitting her hard and allowing her to come back to her senses. It had been a horrible idea to drink so much. "I thought it would help me to relax … I thought it would _work_ like this, you know?"

"Th' fuck, woman? Ya think ya gotta be drunk to have sex with me? That's quite the compliment," he remarked in a dry tone, arching a brow at her. The half-smile spreading over one corner of his mouth disguised his hurt, however.

Carol smiled sadly. "You know I didn't mean it like that. It was dumb and I crossed a line. I'm sorry."

"When it happens, I wanna be sure yer with me … connected like before … remember?" he asked softly, reaching for her hand to brush his lips over her knuckles, reminding her of what they'd already shared and how much her trust in him had grown since their rough beginnings.

"What if … what if it will never … uhm … _work_?" she asked him, defeated.

Daryl huffed a short breath, trying to find the words to explain. "We … I mean … You've come so far, Carol. Yer feeling good, more confident than ya were before, and ya seem to be more comfortable with what we've been doin' compared to how it was when we first met. Sex ain't everythin'."

It was as if he hadn't spoken, however. Her thoughts were mired in her own self-doubts and recriminations. "I'm useless like this, Daryl. What kind of man would want a woman who can't give him sex?"

"If a man loves his woman …" Daryl paused, his voice trailing into the ether as his eyes widened minutely. "Is that what this is about? Ya wanna get ready for some guy? I thought this was about _you_? YOU wanted to do somethin' for yerself, right?" he asked, confusion warring with the jealousy which had his stomach tied in knots.

Carol buried her face in her hands as silent tears washed over her waxen cheeks. She knew he was right, but her husband's ghost ... his vile acidic accusations had carved deep scars into her soul and filled her heart with echoes of pain. _No use … Worthless … No one will ever want you, slut!_

"Can you love, Daryl? Your job … sleeping with all those women … can you feel love?" she whispered, inwardly cursing the waver in her voice.

Her question caught him off guard. How easy would it be to answer her honestly? Yet he couldn't … _shouldn't._ It would ruin what they shared, he was sure of it. "Can _you_ … after all you've been through?" he asked instead, once again hiding his true feelings behind a mask of stoicism.

Carol's mouth opened and closed numerous times before she finally found her voice to answer him. "It's better if I don't. And you?"

Daryl smiled weakly, rubbing a hand over his chest where his heart gave a painful thud. "Yeah … It's better if I don't either," he replied.

The whole situation made her feel like a fool. She'd practically thrown herself at him like an insane hysterical nymphomaniac and crossed a line with forcing him between her legs. But in spite of everything he hadn't left, and he had also helped her out of her stockings, because her moves had still been too uncoordinated to manage on her own and her tears had made it hard for her to see. No man had ever helped dress her before, yet he hadn't hesitated to help her into a pair of pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt before he'd gone to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water for her … two actually. He'd made her drink the first one, insisting she needed to stay hydrated to prevent a hangover. The second, he set on her night table for later. For some reason, it seemed he felt responsible for her. She cringed, hating to be such a burden to him.

"How ya supposed to sleep in that? Ain't it terribly uncomfortable?" he asked, fingering the stiff material of her bustier at her waist where her shirt had ridden up. She'd already refused quite vehemently when he'd suggested she remove it only moments before.

"I – No … I can't," Carol replied quietly. "I could try to take it off without removing my shirt, but I just don't think I could manage."

Daryl climbed onto the bed, kneeling behind her and gently resting his hands on her shoulders to ease away some of her tension. His voice was whisper-soft against her ear. "Ya can't sleep in this thing," he insisted. "May I take it off? I mean … I can't really see anythin' here."

Carol trembled, overcome with nerves, the alcohol she'd consumed earlier roiling in her stomach. Could she? The bustier had always been between them, her safety net, her armor. Removing it, would leave her more vulnerable than she'd ever been with him, despite his assurances that he wouldn't touch her sexually while her head was clouded with drink.

Daryl could feel her fear, her indecision as she fought the battle in her mind. He didn't want her to be afraid, not of him. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Stop, Carol. Let it go," he whispered, trying to comfort her. "I'm not gonna look, an' ya know I'd never hurt ya. I jus' want ya to be comfortable so ya can rest. Trust me."

She closed her eyes, the warmth in his rich gravelly voice soothing her. She _did_ trust him to a certain point, though it was one of the most difficult things she'd ever had to do. Her hands, clenched over the tops of his forearms relaxed somewhat, and the nod she gave him was almost imperceptible.

Carol managed to slip her arms free of the straps with his help, but she knew it would be impossible for her fumbling fingers to free the hooks running down the front of the bustier. He gave her the time she needed to mentally prepare for what was to happen, and with a shaky breath, she nodded again, giving him permission to proceed.

Daryl watched her face closely in the meager light as he slipped his hands beneath her shirt, searching for any signs of distress. He could sense how hard this was for her. He concentrated on his task - trying not to touch her more than was necessary - and paused at the top of the bustier, his fingers trembling. Her eyes shot open to meet his gaze as the first hook was released, and he arched a brow, again asking for permission to proceed, his eyes pleading with her to allow him to see to her comfort. Carol relaxed minutely and simply pressed her brow to his. Daryl's fingers were quick and efficient, clinical almost, as he finished the long row of hooks and pulled the stiff, unyielding fabric from her body to toss onto the floor.

How many times had he dreamed of ridding her of that offending garment? Too many times to count. There was no way he could have imagined taking it off of her in such an awkward moment, the mere thought forcing him to bite back a chuckle.

"Better?" he asked, leaning back to gauge her reaction.

 _I don't know._ "I think so," Carol whispered brokenly, her arms wrapping around her torso, hugging herself in an effort to hide her body from him, bereft without her armor.

Daryl moved to sit next to her again and just couldn't help but notice how vulnerable she suddenly appeared. "Yer a'right? Why do ya hide yerself?"

"Yeah, I'm ok. It's just … I'm not young anymore … not firm, toned or in perfect shape … I'm sorry," she whispered shyly, turning away from him to lie down and cover herself with the blanket.

"There's nothin' wrong with ya; yer pretty jus' the way ya are, Carol," he sighed, pulling off his tie and removing his suit jacket.

"What are you doing? Are you … are you going to stay?" Carol asked, a puzzled frown drawing her brows together.

"Uhm … I thought … I mean … it's two in the mornin' an' I ain't thrilled at the thought of drivin' home this late. An' I was thinkin' … maybe ya shouldn't be alone now. But it's a'right … I can leave," he stammered, blushing to the tips of his ears. "But drink some water before ya go to sleep … hangover prevention and stuff," he added. He didn't want her to suffer a vicious headache the next morning.

"Stay … please, stay with me," she whispered and burrowed herself deeper under the covers. Carol hadn't expected him to stay overnight, and she wasn't prepared. But she couldn't find it in herself to feel disappointed to have him stay with her.

Over the years, she'd taken measures to have her bed appear less empty. It wasn't as though she'd enjoyed someone next to her in the past - quite the opposite - but sometimes, she'd felt lost in the big bed. Unaware of what comfort she'd been looking for, she'd felt she'd had to do something to make herself feel less lonely - for lack of a better explanation. She'd added a heavier, bigger blanket, much larger than the king-sized bed, and an array of six pillows filled the space she didn't occupy. Daryl would find enough bedding and a place next to her, even if it was limited.

Carol drank the second glass, just as he'd asked. _He feels responsible for me. I'm nothing but a burden_ , she lamented silently. She returned the glass to her night table, trying to calm down as she waited for him to join her. Still wearing his boxers and his undershirt he lay down next to her after she'd inched closer to the edge of the bed to make more room. He was lying in the middle of the bed, pulling the blanket over him as he held her gaze, her warmth already reaching out to him. It hurt his heart to see the tears which lingered in her azure eyes. She seemed so small and lost. "C'mere," he whispered, inviting her into his embrace.

She was finally in his arms - the blanket between them so she didn't feel too exposed - hiding in the crook of his neck as if she were seeking refuge. Her warmth permeated his body, and he enjoyed the feel of her breath on his skin as he relaxed, drawing his arms around her. But then she lifted her head, looking up at him, her expression sad and troubled.

"I'm not," she whispered to him.

"What?"

"Pretty … I know I'm not," she said. "So, don't lie to me any longer, please."

"Ain't lyin' … would rather say nothin' than lie to someone. Did _he_ tell ya that … yer asshole husband?" he asked, but when she looked down and closed her eyes, he had his answer, the question he'd asked unnecessary.

"Dunno what he told ya, but I think yer pretty," he whispered, his fingers gliding softly over her shoulder as his voice rumbled slowly into the silence. "Yer pretty when yer smiling an' laughing … an' when yer lost in thought sometimes. An' when yer excited, yer eyes get much bigger … those blue eyes. Yer always pretty … even when ya come … _especially_ when ya come," he whispered with a half-smile. "An' when yer cryin' … yer even pretty when yer cryin' … beautiful," the last word only a breath.

"Carol?" he spoke quietly, but her eyes were already closed and her breaths eased past her lips in a calmer rhythm. She'd already fallen asleep. It was probably better this way, better that his words hadn't reached her ears, he mused.

"An' I _would_ kiss ya if no one was watchin' us … I _would_ ," he whispered, the distance closing between them as his face inched closer to hers. He prayed she wouldn't wake and send his courage fleeing, hesitating for only a heartbeat before he brushed his lips softly to hers. His hand smoothed over her soft hair as he closed his stinging eyes. "Sweet dreams, sweetheart."

 **Chapter End Notes:**

I'm a little worried that maybe the chapter went into a direction which felt disappointing for some readers, but for me, it had to happen like this. They - both of them - just need that different kind of intimacy, before they can get intimate in a physical way. But in the end, every broken wall gives more room for the next step. And maybe they will make a huge step in the next chapter!

Thank you for reading and reviewing! I'm still overwhelmed by your wonderful feedback and every comment makes my heart jump!

Kudos to the amazing CharlotteAshmore! Thank you for always finding the words which I don't have sometimes. You're doing a great job with getting into my head! Love you!


	26. Chapter 26 - Morning Glory

**Thank you for hanging on and your lovely comments! They make me happy! :)**

 **OOO**

Carol groaned as she fought her way towards consciousness, the dregs of sleep trying to lull her back into the arms of Morpheus. However, the insane tapping of Woody Woodpecker himself, passionately chipping away at her brain matter, wouldn't let her return to the numbing comforts of sleep. The sentience in her mouth - roadkill of the feline persuasion at best, roadkill which was days old bloated in the hot sun - was next brought to her attention, and she grimaced. Another discomfort joined the first two … her bladder - _Thank you, Daryl for the buckets of water you made me drink to prevent a hangover. If only it had worked_ \- urging her to get her ass out of bed. Had it only been just a few hours ago? Surely, just a few, she thought miserably, feeling the first rays of dawn tease their way through the curtains to mercilessly burn at the backs of her lids.

Grimacing, Carol squinted against the meager light, taking a moment to adjust. Memories of the previous day - the _entire_ day - washed over her like a shrill soprano, and she found herself praying for a sudden and immediate mental blackout. Oh, how grateful she would have been for a swift knock to the head and a blessed case of amnesia. She raised her palms to press against her cheeks, her skin ablaze with mortification as she remembered throwing herself wantonly at him. It was clear she'd left her good sense behind in the bottom of that last wine bottle at the reception. Memories of falling asleep in Daryl's arms, his warmth and comfort offered so freely. Yet that was all it was now … a mere memory. She was no longer in his sweet embrace.

After she'd rubbed the sleep from her eyes and opened them enough to focus, she became aware of the situation and its reason. There was no one to blame for the broken intimacy. Instead of finding herself in the middle of the bed, wrapped snugly in his arms, she was lying on the very edge of the mattress … just as Daryl clung to the edge on the other side.

For whatever reasons, they'd separated, drifting apart in their slumber. Now, the two-foot bit of distance between them felt cold and empty, a chasm Carol didn't know how to breach. She could only sit and contemplate the reason for it, each subconsciously seeking an escape. Perhaps, it was because neither of them were well-versed in the intricacies of such a situation. Carol had no clue about Daryl's life apart from what he'd told her, nor who might usually share his bed. She couldn't stifle the unfamiliar pain building up inside of her at the thought of another woman sharing his personal space. But she _did_ know _she_ had never cuddled with a man in her sleep before, had never been able to trust herself to be so vulnerable with anyone, not even when times had been _better_ between her and Ed. Carol had enjoyed the feeling of Daryl's arms around her, cocooning her in warmth. Those arms never failed to make her feel safe, yet she'd moved away from him in the middle of the night, just as he'd moved away from her.

Daryl was still asleep, his breathing smooth and even, his back facing her. Carol mused silently about what the previous day would make him think of her. The alcohol had unfettered her inhibitions, the most vulnerable parts of her left on display. She understood his rejection when she'd tried to seduce him, and she felt horrible about her behavior, so unlike her, so different from the woman he knew her to be. She had never been this demanding before in her whole life, had never made such a fool of herself or put such pressure on her partner. That she'd done that to this man she trusted, made her feel even worse. He'd been right not to accept her _offer._ She was sure they'd have both regretted it. It wasn't because she hadn't wanted to have sex with him - quite the contrary - but rather because she hadn't been herself. Her senses had been muddled, and he had stated quite plainly how he wanted her to be _with him_ when they finally took that leap.

Afraid to wake him, Carol slowly eased herself out of the bed, knowing she had to address the myriad annoying problems which had roused her from sleep. Cautiously tiptoeing to the bedroom door, she opened it as quietly as possible and slipped out, the bathroom her first destination. After relieving herself and desperately brushing her teeth, she went into the kitchen, downing a glass of water and some ibuprofen to nip her hangover in the bud.

Every step she took back towards her bedroom, caused a dull nagging throb to reverberate behind her eyes, blurred images of last night's reception and the events following, painting colorful pictures throughout her mind. She needed more sleep, still too tired to start the day. Standing in the doorway, she watched Daryl, allowing her mind to wander. There was a man in her bed, and it didn't feel wrong or disturbing - not at all - but it did feel unfamiliar after being alone for so long.

Once again, she let herself focus on her memories, his rejection still causing a subtle sting of hurt, but he'd also proved himself to be a man who wouldn't take advantage of a woman in her drunken state. She'd felt his body responding to her, more than ready and willing to fulfill her needs, but he was her man of honor. He'd been level-headed enough to give; not _take._ He'd taken care of her … something she doubted she would ever become used to.

Carol ghosted a hand over her ribs, still covered modestly by her sleeping shirt. It sent a shiver down her spine not to feel her armor firmly in place, every nerve in her body pinging with vulnerability. Daryl had respected her wishes, not even trying to see beneath the stiff fabric what she was so desperate to hide from him. She'd never felt so exposed, even with the thin covering of her shirt, tears falling from her eyes in torrents. Her heart ached as she wondered if she could have done the same with any man other than Daryl.

Making her way back to the bed, she observed him silently, soaking up every detail of his strong smooth body bathed in the light of the dawn. It seemed like the blanket was too warm for him, so it only covered his legs after he must've moved it away from him in his sleep.

Admiring his silhouette in the early morning light, her eyes narrowed as they traced his back, her mind refusing to believe the evidence her gaze had found. Lying half on his stomach, half on his side, his shirt had ridden up, and uncovered an area she had never seen before. And Carol recognized a scar when she saw one. Peeking out of the hem of his shirt, she studied a line … as thick as her finger - some inches long - disappearing under his shirt where the beginnings of another was barely visible. _Had he had an accident, or was it a surgical scar?_ she mused. _Is this the reason he refuses to remove his shirt when he's with me?_ Shaking her head in confusion, she cautiously crawled back in the bed, occupying the same space where she'd awoken earlier, trying to sort through her troubled thoughts. Whatever Daryl was hiding beneath his shirt wasn't meant for her eyes, and so she would do her best to forget what she'd seen … which was easier said than done.

OOO

Daryl woke, a deep groan rumbling deep in his chest. Not out of frustration - as per usual when he woke to meet the day - but rather with a sense of well-being. Spooning Carol's warm body, his cheek rested on her shoulder while his groin nestled against her lower back. Morning Glory - hallelujah! His hand had drifted beneath her shirt to caress the soft skin of her bare belly, musing if he should feel bad about how damn good this forbidden touch felt. Never before, had he woken up like this, just like he'd probably never slept this well in his whole life.

Of course, the previous day had sucked away all his energy, so it wasn't a surprise that he'd needed to rest, and it had worked just fine in the comfortable bed close to _his_ Carol, the woman whose lips had felt so soft against his last night. Now the midday sun burned his eyes through his lids and he opened them slowly, wondering if she would be mad at him if she knew about the kiss.

 _Was this the kind of kiss she wanted? Had he taken advantage of her inebriated state when he'd kissed her without her consent? Was he any better than her asshole ex? Should he tell her?_ Questions, doubts and the overwhelming weight of his insecurities barreled through him like a runaway freight train, and now he felt bad for something which had previously felt so good. But she'd wanted him to kiss her before, hadn't she?

He'd often mused if she would kiss him for the same reasons he wanted to kiss _her_ or if his lips would only be committing to a duty, his lips cooperating with his body to perform the service for which she paid him. _Women love that kissin' shit! -_ Merle had once told him - but Daryl had never before broken this rule of his job he'd set for himself. He'd always appreciated the freedom of making his own rules with his clients, but Carol had turned everything upside down, probably from the moment he'd met her. He would kiss her again, but not as long as he was still her escort … not as long as she was still paying him.

Snuggling against her body - both intertwined in the middle of the bed - Daryl simply wanted to enjoy those last moments of closeness before reality intruded. Already, he could feel her stirring, a soft snuffle escaping her lips, her slender body unfurling in a stretch before pressing back into his warmth.

"Sorry!" Daryl mumbled a quick apology as her eyes - wide with surprise - found his over her shoulder. Her breath hitched a little as her gaze moved to stare at her belly - where his hand rested comfortably - and he pulled it from beneath her shirt, literally jumping away in shame.

 _Way t' go, Dixon,_ he thought miserably, knowing he'd crossed a line, more than aware of that bit of skin she fought so valiantly to hide from him. Which was why he was a bit confused by the tiny smile of her rose-tinted features as she quickly pulled her shirt down to cover herself. "Hey, good morning," she mumbled sweetly.

"Uhm, mornin' … didn't see anything, I swear!" he stammered.

Carol schooled her face into a serene mask as she battled her own confusion. It felt strange to wake up in his arms when just hours ago they'd been on separate sides of the bed. They'd somehow gravitated towards one another, yet still there had been _something_ before which had kept them separate. But suddenly, the thought of him being used to this position with a former girlfriend crept up on her. _Perhaps it was merely habit._ The unfamiliar touch of Daryl's hand on her belly had terrified her at first, but she couldn't blame him for moving in his sleep. Nevertheless, his touch had felt good there. His large, warm hand had covered her scars, the words carved into her skin; they'd become invisible if only for a moment beneath his soothing caress.

Carol cleared her throat, her lips parting silently as she prepared to speak, but Daryl beat her to it. "How's yer head? Did ya sleep well?" he suddenly asked, his piercing blue eyes searching her own.

"Yeah, much better than the last time I woke up. I took some painkillers and drank more water. I feel good, better than expected," she said, actually surprised about the non-existent hangover.

"Ya were up? I didn't hear ya," he admitted.

"I was quiet," she smiled.

"Must've been very quiet … uhm, be right back … jus' have to take a p- … I mean I have to go to th' bathroom," he stammered as he got up, feeling like a green boy as he tried to hide the bulge in his boxers.

"I could make us some coffee … do you want, uhm, coffee?" she asked hesitantly. Carol was aware of the possibility of him leaving at any moment. Offering coffee could make him think he was still welcome at her place, or he could think she was just being a gracious host. No matter what he would think, he would stay just a little longer if he would agree to join her for a cup.

"Naw, jus' stay in bed … no hurry, be right back," he replied and ran a hand through his dark messy strands.

Carol nodded and also told him where he would find a new toothbrush if he needed one. When he disappeared into the bathroom she mused what he was up to. It seemed like he didn't want to leave, but the reason _why_ was a riddle to her.

"You don't have to … I mean, yeah I'm sober now, but that doesn't mean that we … uhm you don't have to do anything," Carol whispered when he was lying next to her again in the bed. She was still ashamed about what had happened last night and just wanted him to know nothing had to happen just because he was thinking he _had_ to do it, that she would expect it of him.

He inched closer and slowly reached for her to let his fingers glide along her scalp. "What do ya wanna do? I'm here … jus' tell me," he murmured softly.

"I'm still so sorry about last night, and I don't want you to feel forced to … I'm not like that," she said, her lower lip trembling.

"No matter what ya want or need, I would never feel forced … never," he said, and it was true. Maybe for the first time in his life he wouldn't feel forced to do something when it came to sex, not with _her_.

Carol nodded hesitantly and slowly sat up, pulling on her shirt to bring it into position. She just didn't feel comfortable - safe - without the bustier … not yet. "Never?"

He shook his head. "Ya wouldn't do anythin' I don't want, like I wouldn't do anythin' ya don't want, I trust ya, like ya trust me."

Feather light, her fingertips glided cautiously along his chest to his belly, his taut muscles flexing beneath her touch until she stopped at the waistband of his boxers, her gaze shyly questioning as she glanced up at him. "Would you let me … uhm, can I?" she asked as she bit her bottom lip.

Carol had touched him before, so he knew immediately what she meant despite her inability to form the words she wished to speak. He couldn't believe she really wanted to do this. "It's about ya, remember? An' I'm sure ya did this before … so there's nothin' to learn, y'know?"

With a sad smile she shook her head as she caressed the thin line of soft skin between his shirt and his boxers. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she finally found the words she'd been looking for. "All I remember … all I know …," she stammered as she eventually looked up to meet his eyes. "It was more … _him_ doing it and not me," she whispered.

Daryl felt the anger building up inside of him as he realized what she meant. "Ya shouldn't, hell! Ya shouldn't do this!" he hissed and sat up, holding her gaze as he caressed her shoulders, giving a shake of his head.

"I want to … it should be me who's in control with this, right? And I trust you, you wouldn't … I trust you," she said quietly.

In control; the woman would be _in control_. Maybe this was the reason why Daryl had never liked it. In the past he'd tried to prevent it and it had worked most of the time. He'd always been sure that women didn't like it either. The one or two who had offered to give him a blow-job had been easily put off, appearing relieved he didn't want it. Clients had never tried it and it had been more than welcomed, so why did Carol want to do it so badly?

On the other hand, he couldn't deny that with her, he would no doubt enjoy it. If anyone would be allowed to do this, it would be her … only her. He couldn't deny the thought of her mouth on him made his cock twitch in anticipation. He felt torn.

Still hesitating, Daryl knitted his brows. "Yeah, ya would be in control … ya really wanna do this? Yer really sure?"

"I am."

"Ya stop … ya stop immediately if ya ain't feelin' comfortable, a'right? Promise!"

"I promise," she whispered and put her hand on his chest, gently pushing him to lay down in a slow move as their eyes connected and held.

"I trust ya," he whispered.

The area of skin she'd touched before was the first destination for her lips. Moving to the waistband of his boxers, she slowly began to spread a flurry of tiny kisses over his lower belly. She smiled, reveling in his body's response to her, relishing the feel of his muscles twitching against her lips. Her gaze sought him, silently asking his permission to move his shirt higher, pleased as he nodded. Carol's confidence grew, and she let her hands roam gently over his bare skin as her lips inched closer to his boxers.

Eventually, one of her hands left his belly, eager to feel the outlines of his member through the fabric. He'd already been hard before she'd touched him there, but the low groan - which seemed to come from deep inside of him - was his answer to her silent question if he liked what she was doing.

Shaking fingertips pulled softly on his waistband, and Daryl got the message. He could understand her nervous hesitation as he continued to search her eyes for any doubt, though it was in vain. Her crystalline gaze was filled with determination despite her nerves, and his hands joined hers to release him from the constricting fabric, lifting his hips to push his boxers down. Even though Carol had seen him like this before, he nevertheless felt exposed, worried if his acceptance of her will had been the right decision. Neither of their experiences with this had been _good_ in the past, but the trust between them now would allow them to explore new territory … together.

Carol took her time as her hand roamed his soft skin, her fingers brushing the light dusting of hair as she covered the base of his member with tender kisses. His cock twitched appreciatively as her thumb glided gently over his tip, already weeping from her attentions. She spread the moisture over the sensitive area, Daryl's breathing becoming erratic. Her tentative touch was a mixture of curiosity, timidity and desire to make him feel good. In slow but bold moves, she let her lips trail softly from root to tip experimentally, listening to his body, learning from his soft sounds what brought him pleasure.

As her tongue darted out to taste him, swirling sinuously around the head, she felt him move slightly, his hips rising just a fraction as he drew in a sharp breath, the air hissing between his teeth. She could sense him fighting against his body, the urgency rushing through him not to cross that line invisibly drawn in the sand. It proved just how much he was enjoying her touch, yet at the same time, his restraint made her feel safe. She was still in control … the control he had freely given her without qualms. Completely lost in observing his reactions, she gave herself over to her task, the sweet salty musk a welcome twang on her tongue, his scent enveloping her and sending a spiral of heat to unfurl in her womb. It had never been something she'd _wanted_ to do before … not until Daryl. With him, she took pleasure from seeing him writhe beneath her as she took him fully into her mouth, the flat of her tongue caressing him. The slow slide of his cock in the warm recesses of her mouth as she licked and sucked him closer to his peak left her feeling empowered. She liked it. His member so hard yet sensitive under her mercy filled Carol with pride, and … arousal.

Daryl watched her through sloe-lidded eyes, his lips parted in awe, his chest heaving. Never would he call what she was doing a blow job. No, he felt as if she was worshipping him, the torture sweet and slow. The goal wasn't his release, but rather the act itself. He wanted to curse in desperation, every nerve in his body alive with pleasure. Every time her azure orbs met his, he could hardly believe his luck. When her eyes fell closed as she took him deeper, he fell in love with her all over again. It stunned him to his core to see her enjoying it just as much as he did. Again and again, his vision blurred as he tried to hold himself together, to fight against the pure sensation of her hot tongue gliding over him. Her little moans vibrated against his swollen cock, and he bit his lip in an effort not to lose it too soon. She was pure unadulterated pleasure.

Gently, so as not to startle her, or make her think he was trying to control her, he let his fingers run slowly through her soft curls, adoring the magnificent image of her. His hand exerted no pressure, just a slow caress, but his eyes widened as he realized what she might think and snatched his hand away, the arousal swimming in his eyes suddenly replaced by a look of embarrassment. "Sorry! I hadn't wanted to … uhm -" he stammered, pulling his woman - who seemed completely lost in him - back to reality.

Carol stopped and looked at him with those dreamy eyes in confusion. "Oh, it's … alright. I know it's not like … _this_ ," she whispered as her delicate hand stroked his cock again.

Good, 'cause I didn't mean … like that, damn," he said. "C'mere!"

Carol crawled next to him and settled into his inviting arm. "Don't you want me to continue? Did I do it wrong?" she teased with a half smile.

"Naw, ya did nothin' wrong. It was … I liked it … really! Was it okay for ya?"

She smiled and gave him a small smile as she nodded. "I … liked it, too. I never thought I could. Thank you for letting me try this." she whispered shyly and caressed his cheek before she moved her hand along his neck and his shoulder, enjoying his skin under her fingertips.

"Can I touch ya … through the shirt?" he eventually asked as he stopped his eager hand one inch before it landed on her belly.

Nodding hesitantly, Carol placed her hand over his. The gentle ease of the past few minutes seemed to disappear, their shared arousal giving way to a more urgent touch. Daryl's hands roamed over her as he pressed desperate little kisses along her throat, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her throat, gently sucking her heated skin to pull a faint bruise. A low moan rumbled deep in his chest as he cupped her breast through the thin fabric of her shirt. God, how he wanted to rip the offending garment from her and feast upon her flesh. He read her body just as she'd read his earlier, the breathy moans rushing past her lips fueling his desire. He rubbed his face against the valley between her breasts, his free hand gliding over her side to give her hip a gentle squeeze. He whimpered as her hand fisted in his hair, releasing to scrape her nails along his scalp, and he could resist no longer, his lips closing over one pert nipple through her shirt.

Carol's back arched, giving more as his tongue circled the little bud, allowing him to take more into his mouth, his fingers toying with its twin, pinching gently. Heat flowed between them, more and more of her insecurities falling to the wayside as she sought her pleasure. He forced himself to calm minutely, resisting the urge to bite, to feel her between his teeth and bring her closer to her peak. He had no idea if it would frighten her, that little sting of pleasure and pain, and he wanted nothing to detract from the ecstasy of having her like this in his arms. He'd never felt like this before.

Carol clung to him, her breath a frenetic burst against his skin as his bold fingers pushed past the waistband of her pants without ceremony or warning. The small blaze of heat burning through her veins ignited, and her hips rose, seeking more of his exquisite touch.

Sliding through her smooth folds, he was met with the evidence of her arousal. She was so wet, there was no question in his mind as to how much she was enjoying what he was doing to her, and most likely what she'd done to him. In his experience with his clients and even with the few women he'd had before becoming an escort, he'd never encountered such a response. And it urged him not to fail her.

Pressing her body against his, Carol found herself hating the layers between them. She needed him closer, wanted to feel the slide of her bare skin on his, wantonly desired _more._ She reached for his cock resting hard and heavy against her hip, the twitch of appreciation as her fingers gripped him with the perfect pressure bringing a slow sinful smile to her lips. He just felt so good.

He didn't know if it was due to carelessness or his craving to be as close a possible for her, to bring her the most pleasure he could, but suddenly, Daryl's finger was surrounded by her slick heat, soft and incredibly tight, all at once. Nothing had ever felt more welcome, so unbelievably good. His head shot up, his gaze catching hers, locking together. All movement ceased between them, their breathing harsh in the silence, stunned by this new development. Yet there was no time to think about the _next step_ , no need to let their fears intrude when they moved so perfectly together. Carol's breath caught as his finger slid deeper, retreating, returning, and sliding so perfectly in and out in a gentle rhythm as the heel of his hand pressed against her sensitive bundle of nerves in with just the right amount of pressure. Her walls clenched around his digit, fluttering madly, moments, seconds, almost ...

Carol increased the pace of her strokes, her fingers gentle but firm as she worked him towards his peak, her mouth forming a perfect little 'o' of pleasure as she felt suspended in time, balanced on the precipice, waiting to fall. She fought to keep her eyes open as the first wave hit her, refusing to break the connection of their locked gazes. She needed him, needed him to know only he could bring her such bliss.

Daryl roared his completion, never having come so hard in a woman's hand. Their previous forays with intimacy had been mind-blowing, but it was nothing compared to this, he thought as his brow fell against hers. He knew in that moment he was doomed. She was it for him. Never would he experience this unimaginable ecstasy with another, nor did he want to. His arms tightened around her, clinging desperately to her … never wanting to let her go.

OOO

 **Chapter End Notes:**

I hope you're liking their development!

Thank you for reading!

Send flowers to CharlotteAshmore for 'polishing' the incredible smut! More cigarettes and cold showers needed!


	27. Chapter 27 - Hope Amidst the Misery

"Would you like more coffee?" Carol asked as she and Daryl stood in her kitchen, leaned against the counter side by side. They felt unsettled - much like two kids stranded in the wilderness - traversing uneven ground on shaky legs.

Daryl nodded, smiling shyly, his mind forming knotted thoughts as to whether or not he should've already left and having no desire to do so … he wanted to stay. "Yeah, thanks."

An hour ago - after they'd caught their breath and come down from their high - they'd allowed a moment to simply remain cuddled up before eventually separating. The situation had felt strange. Both of Daryl's jobs had been seen to. He'd been her plus-one for the wedding and the lover in her bed. What was left for him to do? He'd fulfilled his obligations, and now there was no official reason to stay any longer. Yet, he couldn't, for the life of him, compel his feet to take those few steps to the door.

They'd taken a shower - though not together - their secrets remaining hidden, and changed back into their everyday clothes. It had felt almost routine - a habit - and made them both feel a little awkward. But instead of relishing the connection between them, it became a strained tension setting them on edge. The little fairy tale from the previous day had already been written, published and delegated to a dusty shelf. There was no need for Daryl to remain now that his job was done, but there was nothing pressing he felt he needed to attend. He was still obligated to return Merle's car - which he should have done last night - but Daryl couldn't care less about his brother's possible upset. Merle would call him should he need the car, and besides, his older brother had pissed him off so many times in the past, Daryl had earned twenty free rides at the very least.

"Do you have any appointments today?" Carol asked quietly, eyeing him over the rim of her cup as she sipped her coffee, blushing as she addressed the elephant in the room.

His warm familiar presence seemed awkward yet strange at the same time, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was still there because he thought he had to, or rather because he wanted to. She was finding it difficult to find a way to say goodbye after all this time glued to his side. They'd spent so much time together, and the emptiness she'd always felt when he'd left her after every appointment … she was afraid this time would be worse. He would leave her behind in a deep black hole of loneliness, especially today. Daryl was no doubt waiting for her to call an end to their time, so it was only natural to remind him of his possible obligations, though she silently hoped there were none and he would stay … by choice.

"Naw, it's Sunday … no appointments an' nothin' to do. I'll prob'ly binge watch some stupid TV-series on my sofa," he replied with a half-moon grin.

A small chuckle escaped her, eyes alight with amusement. "Sundays are perfect for that. What do you watch?" she asked, relieved with his answer and the possibility to resolve some of the tension which had sprung up between them with a little small talk.

He shrugged. "Jus' some stupid zombie show … nothin' you'd like, I'd guess," Daryl grinned, his cheeks tinged a light shade of pink. He didn't want her to think less of him because of his TV habits.

"I know which one you mean! Rick loves it," she smiled. "But you're right … it's not my cup of tea. I would probably die within the first ten minutes of the outbreak." She blushed again at his raised brow. "Don't look at me like that. I've watched one or two episodes."

Daryl snorted. "Naw, yer stronger than ya think an' … I would protect ya!"

"That's very gallant of you," she giggled, nudging his shoulder with hers. "And here I thought chivalry was dead."

An awkward silence fell between them for a moment too long before Daryl asked gingerly, "An' what're ya doin' today?"

Carol's lips parted, the words burning on her tongue, but not a one would escape as her smile slowly faded. She knew what she wanted to do today … what she needed to do, but it was still hard for her, even after all these years. "I-I planned to go to the … the cemetery later," she whispered, averting her eyes, her fingers reaching unconsciously for the little flower on her necklace, fondling the pendent between shaky fingers. "Visiting my daughter's grave," she added hesitantly.

Daryl already knew her daughter was dead - thanks to Rick's rant at the reception - but hearing it spoken from her sweet lips, seeing the tears glittering in her eyes, it broke his heart once more. Remorse over the things he'd said to her reared inside him, making him want the floor to open and swallow him whole. He felt like an absolute asshole. He wanted to make up for what he'd said, wanted to offer her comfort, even if he was unsure whether she would accept it and find solace in him. He wouldn't run away ... not this time. Daryl moved closer, turning to face her, his fingers reaching out to cover her trembling hand where it held tightly to the pendent. "I'm so sorry … the horrible things I said … I -"

"You didn't know, Daryl," she whispered, raising her watery gaze to meet his. "I wish she could've had the chance to move out … to grow up."

"What I said … It was stupid. I should've kept my mouth shut without knowin' a damn thing about yer situation. I'm so sorry," he whispered brokenly, gnawing anxiously at his lip.

"I'm not mad at you … it's ok, really."

Daryl's lips formed into a thin line as he debated hard about telling her of his sudden idea. "Wanna bring her flowers. Can we bring her flowers?" he asked quietly as he let his other hand glide along her upper arm.

"We?" she asked in confusion.

"Yeah, we! I owe ya … an' I owe her. I wanna bring her flowers. Can we?"

"You owe me nothing, Daryl. You don't have to do anything," she shook her head.

"I wanna, an' maybe I also owe it myself, y'know!? If ya don't want me to go with ya, it's a'right, but maybe ya don't have to do this alone," he murmured, his steely blue eyes pleading for her approval. Daryl didn't want to intrude upon her time, but if he could be given a chance to do this for her, to comfort her and make up for his stupid behavior, it would be worth it, no matter how small the chance she'd agree would be.

Carol's fidgeting fingers eventually released the little flower on her necklace and she nodded, her still trembling hand gliding over his cheek. "I think I'd like that," she whispered shakily.

Daryl let his fingers replace hers carefully on the little pendent, sliding over the silver petals. He'd seen her wear the necklace before, unsure if the pendant really was a silver replica of the wildflower so familiar to him.

"These were her favorite flowers. She loved wildflowers, but especially this one," Carol whispered.

"A Cherokee rose?" he asked, his voice almost too low to hear.

"Yes, Michonne gave me the necklace after the … the funeral. She said there are still flowers which could grow out of tears and there still would be hope amidst the misery."

"I know the story about the Cherokee rose," Daryl said, remembering his momma telling him the legend when he'd been a little boy. "I know where we can find 'em. Come on, let's grab somethin' to eat and then we're gonna get some of 'em for … for?"

"Sophia, her name was Sophia," she whispered with a shaky sob.

"For Sophia."

OOO

They'd made a pit stop to grab some cupcakes from Sweet Dreams – the little bakery near Carol's apartment – before they'd climbed into the BMW. Now they were both eating in near silence while Daryl drove to a place he hadn't visited in a long time. He hoped the sturdy little bushes were still there … they just had to be.

"I knew ya would pick the one with chocolate cream, but ya should try the strawberry, too," Daryl grinned before taking another bite of his cupcake, rich pink frosting with tiny magenta sugar crystals dotting his upper lip, his other hand gripping the wheel. From time to time, as often as possible, his gaze would leave the road to meet her beautiful eyes.

Carol's nose crinkled with mirth as a small giggle swept past her lips. "It's hard to choose between a Strawberry Fantasy and a Chocolate Sin," she said, surprising him by using the confection's proper names. "I ordered both – same as you – but since I don't have to drive, I was able to eat mine a bit quicker. They were both very delicious. Franny makes the best cupcakes in the state! It didn't take me long to become utterly addicted after I moved here."

"You already ate both?!" he asked, his brows disappearing beneath his unruly fringe.

"Seems like you have to catch up," she teased.

After twenty minutes, Carol looked in the side-view mirror to see they'd left the town behind. The traffic had been mild, considering it was a Sunday, most people choosing to spend the morning either in bed or at church services. There was little need for small talk, and Carol enjoyed the silence which had fallen between them. It seemed the more time they spent together, the more comfortable they became. At the moment, with the landscape passing in a blur outside the car window, words were unnecessary. His presence was calming, and she appreciated the quiet which no longer felt awkward.

Eventually, Daryl turned the car onto a gravel road, rich verdant woodlands on either side as he drove. Pulling the car onto the non-existent shoulder after about a half mile, he left the car and moved to open her door. She stepped out, breathing deeply and allowing the peace of the forest envelop her senses. It felt as if they were further away from the city than they actually were.

"I've never been here before," Carol admitted as she gave him a look of expectancy.

"It's not far, jus' a little walk an' we should reach the quarry. There's a lake nestled there, an' the flowers are everywhere … least I hope they're still there." He smiled shyly, worried he would disappoint her with an empty promise. "Me an' my brother used to come huntin' an' campin' here a few years ago. It's a nice place."

Daryl nodded to the narrow trail, still too shy to take her hand. He wanted to show her the beauty of this place he'd only enjoyed in solitary or with his brother before now. She was the first person he'd wanted to share the wonderful atmosphere with. Merle was a cyclone, never wanted to stop and just appreciate the vast beauty of nature, more intent on the hunt. Daryl wanted Carol to see something he loved, wondering if she would be able to see it through his eyes.

The forest loam was soft under her feet, the trail nearly overgrown, and the smell of verdant vegetation and freshly fallen rain washed over her. The sound of nature and the skittering of woodland creatures was a song to serenade them as Daryl set a slow pace, wanting her to enjoy their walk.

Carol had almost forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by nature, not venturing from the city very often. Breathing in the scent of the forest, listening to the twittering of the birds overhead, and the gentle sound of water, she eventually heard his steps slow.

She turned her gaze to his to find his lips forming a silent whisper as he pointed to what he wanted to show her so badly. "Ya see it?"

Following his direction, she cast her eyes to where he was pointing, and the breath hitched in her throat. What appeared to be hundreds of Cherokee roses filled her vision, the bushes rich and vibrant where they bloomed beneath the bright Georgia sun. Carol's hand rose to cover her mouth as a sob tore free around the constricting lump of emotion lodged in her throat. She'd never before seen so many of them at once. A sea of white petals with their bright gold centers spread out along the lakefront, and she nearly didn't notice Daryl's hand beckoning her closer.

"These are blooming for yer lil' girl," he said, relieved they were still there, much more beautiful than he'd remembered.

Eventually, her gaze drifted away from the beauty of the flowers to meet his eyes. She smiled at him, and he blushed, lost in those vast azure pools, knowing he'd been able to bring her joy, proud he'd been the one who'd made her smile. He bit the inside of his lip and shyly smiled back. "Let's gather some of 'em for her, yeah?"

OOO

Gathering as many flowers as Daryl could carry - he'd brushed off her offer to help him carry some of them - he led her back towards the trail. He was being such a gentleman, and Carol couldn't contain the small grin which etched her lips. Being with him, in a place which meant much to him, made her feel happy. It warmed her from the inside out that he'd chosen to share this with her, wanting to ease her heartache on such a trying day. She felt a lightness in her soul, something akin to happiness coursing through her … because of this man, because he didn't want her to dwell in the darkness and let her sadness wing her into the arms of despair. He'd brought her a rare moment of hope amidst the misery.

Returning to the car, Daryl carefully placed the wildflowers in the trunk before climbing behind the wheel. They shared a smile as the doors fell closed, a shy conspiratorial smile as if they were partners on a mission. We're in this together was his unspoken reply as he stared at her, his expression filled with adoration, his fingertips caressing her hand where it rested between them on the console. If Carol didn't know any better - and if it weren't completely absurd - she would almost think of it as a real date. Despite the circumstances, in some way, it felt like a date.

Starting the engine, Daryl asked their destination, and the sudden silence which followed - when she gave him the name of the cemetery - felt awkward and strange. He'd tensed, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Why would he react so strongly to the name of Sophia's resting place, she wondered. Yet, there he sat, his previously relaxed expression turned to granite as he headed back towards the highway. Carol was sure it wasn't because of the location. Carol sensed that of all the cemeteries in town, this one was meaningful to Daryl, a place where he'd probably had to say goodbye to a loved one. She bit her lip anxiously to restrain herself from asking why he'd suddenly changed into a bundle of nerves. Would he be honest or simply tell her to mind her own business?

"Are you okay?" she asked carefully.

"Yeah, won't take us long to get there," he replied uneasily, obviously trying to hold himself together as he forced his lips to form a half smile.

Carol nodded and fell silent once again. After all, she didn't know him that well, but she thought it better not to push him. Perhaps he would tell her later … maybe.

Daryl's unrest continued to worsen the closer they came to the cemetery, and beads of sweat dotted his brow. Carol tried not to stare, not wanting to cause him more discomfort, but she couldn't help but notice how miserable he seemed. After parking the car, he hopped out and opened the door for her as he'd done before. She walked with him to the trunk and insisted they split the Cherokee roses into two bunches - one for her and one for him - and Carol turned to lead the way.

Daryl's heart thundered in his chest, beating a wild tattoo against his ribs, his legs feeling heavier, as if they were encased in lead with every step he took. He had no damn clue how his body could still manage to walk as he followed her, his arms laden with the flowers. It was important to Carol, he told himself, and he could not fail her. It was a mantra in his troubled mind, pushing him forward. Of all the cemeteries in town, it was this one which caused his heart to break all over again, even after all these years. The place still looked the same; soft green grass, manicured lawns and markers as far as the eye could see. It hadn't changed despite the passage of time, the image having been burned into his mind long ago on the day his heart had shattered.

He'd been fifteen years old the last time he'd been there, and the pain in his body, the despair in his soul on that day, had seared it into his mind in stark relief. He remembered the nurse who'd accompanied him and that he'd worn his older brother's suit. He even remembered the heavy iron gate and the large oaks. He'd felt as if he were being led through the gates of hell rather than to simply visit the dearly departed.

What were the odds Carol's daughter had been placed to rest in this cemetery? In his wildest imaginings, he wouldn't have dreamed they'd end up here. He'd been too busy and distracted doing something special for the wonderful woman by his side, something to ease her pain and perhaps make her smile. This was about her and her daughter, and he would hold his shit together. He would act as though everything was fine - he was normally quite good at this - but it would be difficult, especially with her. Remembering how she'd held him after he'd lashed out at her that day, spewing such god-awful things at her, he knew she would be able to sense his unease. She had the uncanny ability to read him.

Carol's steps slowed and then ceased altogether before a grave decorated with a white marble marker with a butterfly statue and two white candles. It was Sophia's, and it looked as though someone had cared well for it. Carol fondled the petals once more and carefully laid the flowers on her daughter's resting place. She kissed her fingertips before she let them glide over the cold marble of the headstone before settling down onto the grass, reading over the inscription with a sad smile.

Daryl set his own bunch of roses next to Carol's and sat down on the other side. His eyes went wide as he read the date engraved upon the stone in faded gold lettering. "It's her birthday," he whispered.

"Yes, twenty … she would've celebrated her twentieth birthday today, but she will always be my little girl. That's why I wanted to be here today, and besides, it gets harder the more I avoid it … to visit her. You … uhm, the wedding was a good distraction yesterday. Thank you for being here with me, and for the wonderful flowers," she whispered, hot salty tears washing over her ashen cheeks.

"Was nothin' … uhm … I mean, yer welcome," he said quietly, remembering what she'd taught him once.

She smiled at him through her tears and let her gaze fall back to the grave. Daryl pulled his lighter from his pocket and offered it to her, nodding towards the candles. It could have been minutes or an eternity they sat there together, and Daryl was moved by the love and sadness which consumed her as she indulged in her memories of her precious daughter.

Again, her trembling fingers reached out to caress the cold stone one last time before she slowly rose to her feet and offered Daryl her hand to help him up. He stared up at her in awe and took it. Now, both their gazes affixed to the grave, and without looking at her, Daryl reached for her, his arm sliding around her waist to pull her against his chest. Her tears soaked the collar of his shirt, her lithe body shivering against his, and he buried his nose against her soft hair, trying to lend her every ounce of love, comfort and support he could.

Daryl fervently wished he could project his feelings, to put sound and emotion into voice to comfort her, but he lacked the words with which to do so. It was a failing of his he wondered if he'd ever overcome. He wanted to help her, to make her feel better, but perhaps there was no need for words at a moment like this, and his embrace was enough, what she needed. The way she clung to him made him think it wasn't wrong for him to be there with her, even if he couldn't soothe her with placating words and assure her everything would be fine. Daryl knew this, even if there had never been anyone or anything for him to make him hope for better times.

Carol slowly pulled back and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. "Ok … so." She took a deep fortifying breath. "I think it's time to go."

Daryl swallowed hard as he ducked his head to catch her watery gaze. The moment he'd come there, he'd wanted to run away as quickly as possible, but now the words she'd spoken - It gets harder the more I avoid it … to visit her – whispered across his mind with a vengeance.

"C-Can we take a walk … before we leave?" he whispered, his voice cracking on every word.

Taking one of his shaky hands in hers, she nodded as if she was able to read his mind. "Who do you want to visit, Daryl?"

 **OOO**

 **Notes:**

 **Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback on this story so far. More than 200 reviews … I'm speechless!**

 **A huge Thank you to my amazing beta CharlotteAshmore for being by my side! You're the best, love! *Hugs***

 **Oh, and if the name of the bakery seems familiar to you, it's the one from "The Threads of Fate" by CharlotteAshmore. A wonderful story, absolutely worth to read! I love it!**


	28. Chapter 28 - Not Your Fault

_**Here we are with another chapter! Thank you for the lovely reviews!**_

 _ **OOO**_

Lips pressed together, he found himself unable to pry them apart to speak. Instead, he reached for the wallet he kept in his back pocket. He didn't look at her, _couldn't_. Carol released his other hand and watched him search for something in one of the pockets. Panic rose up inside him as he got lost in a blur of memories which had been hidden, tucked away in a dark corner of his mind for so long. _Was it … was it still there?_ He'd carried it with him for years, refusing to look at it. For some reason, he wanted to see it _now_. Even the few little peeks he'd had every time he'd moved it from an old wallet to a new one had caused a lump in his throat, the stabbing ache of guilt and grief threatening to choke him.

Suddenly, his shaky fingers brought out a worn photo which slipped through his fingers to flutter to the ground. Carol immediately bent to retrieve it, his gaze scrutinizing, his body tense, frozen as if petrified to show her this part of his heart.

Holding the picture carefully between her fingers, she saw a little boy, perhaps two years old, standing on a woman's knees - probably his mother - sitting on a porch swing. The woman held the little blonde-haired boy by his hands, and they looked so happy, mirroring the other's face with exuberant smiles. There was so much love radiating from the woman's expression, it could only be that of a mother for her precious child.

"The little boy … is that you, Daryl?" she asked cautiously, a worried frown marring her brow as she watched the wonderful man before her nearly fall to pieces.

His nod was nearly imperceptible, his eyes firmly affixed to the ground. Only once had he been there before, at this place which still held a piece of his heart, and it had left him broken and damaged, the memory still burning in the depths of his shattered soul. He'd felt so lost and alone that day, despite the solid presence of his brother. Merle had allowed him to borrow his old suit, choosing his military dress uniform for himself, so his brother would have something decent to wear. After the day Daryl had come back from the school trip - his _home_ destroyed by fire - everything he'd owned had fit in the small bag he'd carried with him. The photo had been his constant companion since he'd gotten his first wallet at the age of seven, and it was the only proof he'd once had a mother. The rest had been rendered to ashes, just like her.

"Can we? It's … it's over there," he murmured, eventually lifting his gaze to point in the direction he knew they needed to go.

Carol returned the photo to him, placing it between his shaking fingers, her hand rising to caress his tense shoulder before she turned to her daughter's grave once more and knelt down. Taking a few flowers from both bunches, she divided the two bunches into three and took a few steps back to him.

Holding the flowers carefully in one hand like a treasure, her other hand reached out for his. She entwined her fingers through his, and squeezed them gently, drawing him out of the almost catatonic state he was in. She needed to show him she was there for him … just as he'd been there for her.

Only then did he realize what she'd done and he shook his head in protest. "No, these are for yer girl. Ya shou-"

Giving him no chance to demur, she interrupted him. "I still know my daughter … I know how sweet and kind-hearted she was. I'm pretty sure she would've loved the chance to share these with your mother. So …" she whispered, finally catching his gaze, "show me where she is."

The understanding look in her eyes, and the sad but hopeful smile on her lips soothed him somewhat, sending a warm wave of comfort through his body. All those years, he hadn't been able to come back to this place … never could he have done this alone. Even had someone accompanied him, it wouldn't have made him feel any less alone. He had always felt more forlorn in the presence of others, shrinking back into himself, warning people away with his standoffishness. But not with her, _his_ Carol. Despite how little she really knew him, she nevertheless captivated his soul and was able to empathize with him. They'd shared the same pain, grieved the same losses in the past. Her soul mirrored his, reflecting his suffering back at him, she understood him, and because of it, he felt something he'd never felt before … hope.

Daryl's steps were slow and leaden. At times, it seemed as if she was leading him - her supporting hand on the small of his back as they walked - when in truth, he was supposed to be leading her. His eyes roaming over their surroundings, he had to pause and remember, forcing his mind through the haze of memories trying to cripple him so he could remember the way. _It's been so long._

 _Emma Dixon, Beloved Mother …_ The grave Daryl led her to was cold and dreary, the stone memorial standing out as a sentinel of grief. Little care had been shown to the gravesite, but the granite stone looked oddly new. Seeing the lapidary inscription - the dates - Carol's brow knit in confusion. She cast him a puzzled glance, but his eyes were focused on the memorial, his expression hidden behind the curtain of his hair.

With one last confused look at the gravestone, Carol slowly stepped closer and carefully placed the bouquet in the very center, wondering if anyone had ever brought flowers to this lonely place, her heart aching for Daryl. She hadn't known this woman, but she'd had a family once … had been a mother. Her son seemed to care, but it appeared as though Daryl hadn't been there for a long time. _Why?_

Carol's fingers glided over the charcoal granite, her heart giving a painful throb for this woman. Eventually, she let her eyes wander to Daryl, and she could see the faint semblance of a smile through his bangs as he stood there frozen in place, the photo still clutched tightly in his hand as if it were a lifeline rooting him to the spot. "Looks beautiful," he muttered ever so softly … and it was true. Now the grave looked like a final resting place befitting his once delicate mother, one she deserved. A few flowers - a small gesture - gave it warmth where before there had only been coldness and grief, but it might also have been Carol's presence. Someone cared … Carol cared.

Carol moved back to his side, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her pants. "The gravestone looks so new," she murmured softly, putting her thoughts to voice as she curled an arm around his shoulders in a comforting embrace.

"Bought it last year … with the first money I saved up with the … the job. I wanted her to have a proper gravestone," he eventually whispered, his eyes remaining affixed on the memorial.

"Haven't you been … uhm … it seems like you haven't been here for …" Carol stammered, struggling for words. She sensed - despite the new marker - he hadn't been there for a long time.

"Naw, not since … y'know. I wasn't here. I chose the stone an' I ordered it, but … I wasn't here. I couldn't."

Carol's grip around him tightened, and he finally looked up at her, raw pain, sadness and undeniable love shining in his eyes. She felt horrible for mentioning his mother before, not realizing the turmoil she must have caused him. "I didn't know she was gone when I told you how proud she must be … but I _am_ sure she was, Daryl."

Daryl shook his head, his features twisting with sadness now colored with anger as he released himself from Carol's comforting grip, tearing himself away roughly. "Ya have no fucking idea, woman!" he spat out.

"Why?" she asked in confusion as she reached for him again, but he took a step back. How could this situation suddenly turn out like this? What had she done?

"I killed her!" he snarled.

"What?" she sobbed, her hand rising to her mouth to cover her shock. He'd done what? Calculating the dates on the gravestone quickly, she estimated he couldn't have been more than sixteen when his mother died … just a _kid_.

Daryl stood frozen, only his ragged breaths breaking through his petrified countenance. She - this wonderful woman - would push him away if she knew, but he couldn't lie to her. Not her. She deserved to know the truth about him, and besides … it wasn't as if she would ever love someone like him anyway. _Let her know what a disgusting bastard you are!_

"Should've kept an eye on her … but I wasn't there. I let her down … it's my fault!" he hissed sharply, his voice distorted with unshed tears.

"What happened, Daryl?" Carol asked, her head a hodgepodge of emotions. _What could he mean?_

"I'm nothing anyone could be proud of. I'm redneck trash, grown up in hell and I let her die!"

"You're not! Tell me what happened!" she pleaded. Nothing of what he said made sense to her.

Daryl looked at her and couldn't believe she was still there. _Why hadn't she run away? Haven't I given her enough reason to walk away?_ "She drank … was the only way she could bear this fuckin' life … the abuse … an' she had a bad habit of smokin' in bed. There's more than one time I came home to find her passed out with a lit cigarette," he whispered brokenly, nearly choking on his last words. "This time I wasn't there … I –"

Carol's mind whirled as the pieces slowly slotted together, fitting into a complete puzzle despite his broken words. He blamed himself for his mother's death, when it had obviously been nothing more than an unfortunate accident. "It's not your fault, Daryl," she shook her head, stepping closer to him.

Daryl stood before her like a wounded animal, and it reminded her of another instance when he'd shown his temper and the real meaning behind it. Once again, it was rearing its ugly head, swathed in pain and fueled by fear, clear for her to see. He reacted to her soft tone with a sudden grimace, flinching as her delicate hand came to rest upon his shoulder as if she were testing how far she could push him, seeing how far he would allow her to go. Carol watched his emotions battle across his handsome features as one arm wrapped around his shoulder, the other cradling his cheek, and he couldn't resist the lure of her comfort a second longer, the dam of his tears breaking.

Daryl buried his face in the crook of her neck, his warm frantic breaths and the hot flow of his tears bathing her skin as almost unintelligible fragments of his thoughts fought their way free from his mouth, clinging desperately to her.

 _She was still here … his Carol._ "I wasn't there … she burned to ashes … don't even know what they buried here …" he sobbed as he felt Carol's heart racing almost as fast as his. "Jus' ashes … all what was left of her was ashes."

Holding him tightly, she buried her nose in his hair. What pain and grief must he have suffered all this time? What could have possibly made him believe his mother's death had been any fault of his? Her heart ached for him, and she mumbled soft soothing sounds against his silky hair like a mantra. _"Shh … it's not your fault … I've got you … shh … it's not your fault."_

Focusing on the gentle cacophony of nature, birdsong and the melodic sounds of their combined breaths as they slowed, the tension in his body began to fade with every new gasp he sucked in. He'd never told anyone about what had happened to his mother, nor the guilt which still burned inside him.

One of her hands glided to his neck and brought him closer to her, capturing his watery eyes with hers. Tears on tears and blue on blue, she eventually held his face in both of her hands as she spoke. "Look at me! You were a kid; you weren't responsible for what happened. Don't let this weight lie so heavily on your shoulders. I know how you feel … I _do_. How often have I thought I could've saved her … saved Sophia, but we can't change fate or all the little things which happen … all the things we didn't know … a series of unfortunate events," she explained, knowing so well what he'd been through. "It's beyond our control and we have to deal with it somehow, or it will eat us up. Don't let the guilt destroy you, Daryl! Your mom wouldn't want this for you."

Daryl looked at her and some of her words finally reached him, but he couldn't believe her. He just couldn't. "But -"

There was no possibility to speak as three of her delicate fingers lifted to his lips to gently lock the words away. Her own lips formed a thin line as she shook her head, her voice trembling as she tried to make him see. "No … it's not your fault, Daryl … it's not."

Again, he pulled her closer and a part of him trusted in her words as his body melted into her warm embrace. Maybe it really hadn't been his fault and she was right. No one had ever blamed him for what had happened to his mother - except for his sorry excuse for a father. Daryl knew what an awful person his daddy had been - what he'd done to her - and perhaps what this man had done to him had been a way to release his own anger and grief rather than a punishment for his son.

Carol also shared his pain about feeling guilty, about being unable to prevent the disasters from happening. Whatever had happened to her little girl, she'd also blamed herself just like he did.

His dried tears had left salty tracks, leaving his cheeks stiff as he gradually released the grip he had on her, Carol's words still echoing in his mind. He'd told her his carefully guarded secret - the darkest depths of his soul - but he still had questions. It wasn't only curiosity, but the _need_ to know her completely, his woman and every tiny nuance of her being.

"What happened to yer lil' girl? Would ya tell me?" He eventually asked when he finally caught her gaze.

Her lips parted fractionally as she stared at him through those luminous blue orbs - bathed in tears and appearing much bigger that they really were - Carol wasn't sure if it was the right moment for this conversation … not at all after he'd just suffered the heartache of baring his soul to her. "Are you sure? Now?"

Daryl nodded. "I wanna know everything about ya. Aren't ya ready? It's ok if ya ain't, really." Once she'd told him he could ask her about her past, but he hadn't … until now.

"I am," she replied hesitantly and let her gaze roam until she found a bench, only a few steps away. "Can we sit?"

For Carol, it was understandable he should've been too self-absorbed with his own emotions, but it seemed as if there was still room for her. After opening up to her - making himself vulnerable - he probably expected the same from her. Did he really want to know her better? She wouldn't tell him every detail - those which had already filled police files and medical records - but nevertheless, she needed to do this. She needed to share this with him and remember …

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

Sorry for this chapter being a little shorter than the last ones (reminds me of working on my earlier chapters again someday), but I needed a clear cut between this situation and the next one. We will make a journey through time in the next chapter and learn about the missing piece(s) of Carol's past.

Thank you to all the wonderful readers; the silent ones and the readers who review and favorite me or this story! You have no idea how much I appreciate every one of you!

Much love and gratefulness to CharlotteAshmore, my lovely friend and beta - You're AWESOME!

Thank you for your great work and letting me borrow the name of Daryl's mother from your story "The Threads of Fate"!


	29. Chapter 29 - A Dire Look Back

**Chapter Notes:**

 **Please remember the warnings on this story! Trigger warning for mentioned domestic abuse, rape and torture!**

 **OOO**

 _Seven years before …_

"I can't!" Carol huffed, casting her eyes down to where her fingers plucked anxiously at the blanket covering her.

"But you can't live like this either. It's getting worse! Every time you're here it's worse!" The officer - who was sitting by Carol's bedside - insisted, true concern for her well-being twisting his features.

There had been a lot of police officers who had tried to convince her to escape the hell she in which she lived - men and women - counselors, social workers, but Officer Rick Grimes had become a constant presence over the last few months whenever she had to be admitted to the hospital. He'd made it a personal mission to help her whether she wanted him to or not.

Carol hesitantly shook her head, a thundering throb beating behind her eyes at even that small bit of motion. It was painful enough she'd blundered in the already embarrassing situation. She'd hoped never to reveal her personal life to anyone, regarding what went on behind closed doors - her own private hell. What her husband did to her, she guarded carefully, so the words _I can't_ had been the closest thing to a revelation she'd ever uttered.

When the clinic staff had no longer believed her excuses about accidents concerning door frames or clumsiness on the stairs, they'd begun calling the police. It was how Carol had become a case of _domestic abuse_ \- God, how she hated to be a statistic - and the questions had become more insistent, just like their solicitations to file a complaint and advice to sue for a divorce. They'd dug more deeply into her medical background, previous hospital stays, adding them to her case file, a documentation of a nightmare which she'd lived for years. Her examinations had become more in-depth, photos taken of her injuries, and that too was added to her growing file. Carol had already lost every speck of dignity she'd once had; this was just the cherry topper. Nevertheless, as long as she refused to admit to the abuse, the police could do nothing, their offers of help falling on deaf ears.

"Carol, please! I can help you … let me help you!" the man offered with a hopeful expression on his worried face. Over the last months, it had always been him who'd come when the nurses had called the police, and he'd always stayed longer than necessary, just like he did now. Rick Grimes had given her his card more than once - he'd even written his private number on the verso - but Carol had always thrown it away before she'd left the hospital.

This time, she was here because Ed had bruised her cheekbone and broken some of her ribs. Not too bad, considering Carol had been grateful the cheekbone hadn't been broken and there would be no need for reconstructive surgery. It had been a blessing in disguise. The nurses had also cared for the latest _inscription_ Ed had given her with his trusty razor blade. The word _bitch_ scarred over on the left side of her bellybutton now had a companion on the right - _ugly_ \- which had become infected.

In the end, Carol would refuse their help and go home after a night or two in the hospital - as always - and try to accept her terrible fate as best she could. After all these years, she needed to double her efforts to learn to cope with her situation. Things didn't change for someone like her no matter how much others might wish otherwise.

"I'm fine," she lied. "You should go. It's already late, and I'm sure there's someone waiting for you at home," Carol whispered warmly as she forced a smile to her trembling lips. The officer cared, but Carol's case - she felt - was a waste of time. He should offer his help to someone who would appreciate it, someone who had a chance … unlike her.

Reluctantly, the officer stood up and slowly paced towards the door, waiting, hoping Carol would change her mind. He paused in the doorway, his hand white-knuckled where it held firmly to the knob, his gaze locked on the picture of abject misery lying in the hospital bed. "I'll come back. I'll be here the next time … hopefully it won't be a visit to the morgue, Carol," Officer Grimes said before he released the doorknob, and left in defeat.

"Good night, officer," Carol whispered to the empty room as she watched the door close behind him. Her eyes drifted shut, her fingers closing tightly over the little card in her hand, the pain awash on her face unbearable.

So many people had offered her help, but where would they be once their job was done? Even if she could bring herself to go through with a divorce and the court proceedings for the abuse - which the police had assured her would send Ed to prison - in the end, she would be alone with Sophia, penniless, homeless. She couldn't send her daughter's father to prison and cause Carol to lose the only home her precious child had ever known.

"Mommy, can we find a new Daddy? Can we?" Sophia had asked her once and the question had hit Carol harder than any punch her husband could ever deliver. The memory brought fresh tears coursing over her cheeks. Sophia had barely been four years old at the time, so little, innocent and naive. Carol had only shaken her head with a forced smile and distracted her daughter with a new puzzle. It had been almost eight years since that day, and instead of a better life, things had only gotten harder over the years. The times of healing herself were in the past, and stays in the hospital had become more frequent.

Ed only _tried_ to be a good dad when other people were around, and, at least, he didn't lay hands on his daughter. The alternative would be not to have a daddy at all, because Carol knew if she could somehow rid herself of Ed, she'd never allow another man within two feet of her. Besides, what man would want an ugly, spent, single mother, useless in all ways possible? Carol had no other choice but to stay with Ed and protect Sophia for as long as possible.

Sleep came unexpectedly easy that night in the hospital. Perhaps it was because Carol was exhausted, or the painkillers dulled her senses enough to afford her a measure of rest, but in an odd way, she felt safe there. Sophia was safe as well. Carol had made sure of it.

OOO

Michonne stood in the kitchen, phone in hand as she waited impatiently for the door to open. Rick was late _again_ and hadn't bothered to answer his phone when she'd called. Situations like these had become a common occurrence over the last few months and had left her flummoxed. Every few weeks he would be late - usually on a Friday - with excuses which left more questions than answers. It was beginning to make her suspicious.

"Where the hell have you been, Rick?" she snapped as the door finally opened and she was met with her husband's wide, frightened eyes.

"Whoa, 'Chonne … darling … I was at work. Don't scare me like that!" Rick huffed, his hands rising in the air as if he was a wanted criminal.

"Your shift was over two hours ago," she fumed, "and don't lie to me about an emergency! I was worried and called Shane when I couldn't reach you. He told me you wanted him to knock off early after the last call came in … which _you_ answered and went on _alone_. Shane's phone seems to be in working order, yet yours doesn't. Weird, huh?" she said, arching one raven's wing brow dubiously.

"I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong," Rick insisted as his hands came to rest gently on her shoulders.

"Who. Is. She?" Michonne replied urgently.

Rick released her and sucked in a deep breath, his head bowing in defeat. He knew he couldn't hide it from her any longer. He had to tell his wife about Carol, the woman he'd come to care for so much. "You wanna know who she is? Fine, I'll tell you." He pressed a kiss to her puckered brow. "Still not what you think, though."

OOO

The next afternoon, Carol had left the hospital - against medical advice - and had driven home. At least Ed allowed her to use the car to make her way to the hospital and back, along with money to pay her medical bills in cash … so as not to leave a trace.

Carefully removing the bandages, she'd taken a shower while Ed had been holed up in the living room in front of the TV, suffering a hangover from the previous night's binge. The house was deathly silent aside from the drone of the television, but she wouldn't let the peace lull her into a false sense of security.

Trying to make herself look as acceptable as possible - no easy feat due to the extent of her injuries - her fingers worked gently to apply a bit of foundation and concealer. She was grateful for the meager cosmetics Ed would condone, thankful for a way to hide herself … or rather hide what he did to her. Carol stared into the mirror, her image reflecting the construction site which was her face. Her eyes were dull and lifeless, no longer holding a bright gleam of hope and vitality. There was no hope for her, hadn't been for a long time. That Carol didn't exist any longer.

Despite the layer of make-up, Carol grabbed her sunglasses, wincing as she tried to put them on. She quickly decided against them, unable to bear the pain they caused. Instead, she tried to hide her face behind her long curls and took more of the painkillers she'd stockpiled in the medicine cabinet. She left the house to pick Sophia up, looking forward to seeing her daughter again. Yet Carol was also afraid of seeing the worry on her little face. The girl was old enough to understand what was going on, and it wasn't possible to hide the bruises on her face.

Over the years, it had become a habit for Sophia to have a sleepover at the Samuels' almost every weekend. The widower who lived a few houses down with his two daughters had always been a great help and a shelter for her daughter. Her best friend was Mika - the younger of the two. Lizzie was her classmate, but Sophia seemed to flock towards Ryan's youngest child. It made Carol wonder sometimes.

Despite being twelve years old, Sophia didn't seem to want to get older. While other girls were thinking of boys and fashion, her daughter still played with dolls and wore shirts with unicorns and rainbows. The way Sophia still clung to her innocence and childhood reminded Carol of Peter Pan - the only kid who never had to grow up. For Carol, it would be fine if this behavior was due to her daughter's personality, but Carol feared it went much deeper than that. She feared Sophia was afraid if she grew older, her father would turn his abuse on her. Maybe the girl also recognized the way her father sometimes looked at her.

Carol was grateful Sophia had precious Mika as her best friend. They were bosom buddies, and the ten-year-old was the sunshine which brought light into her little girl's life. The widower - Ryan - was a good man. Still grieving the loss of his wife, he was nevertheless unflappable, solid as a rock and full of hope. He always took care of Sophia when times were at their worst and Carol could always count on him when she needed to stay at the hospital for _one more night._ Knowing what Carol had to suffer, he'd also offered her help time and again. But she'd refused him, always smiling and pretending everything was fine.

Carol enjoyed spending time with her daughter, and loved every second they could share without Ed there. Whenever her husband was out of town over the weekend or at the bar, the house would be filled with warmth and safety, enabling them to relax and watch movies or play games. But whenever Ed was home on the weekends, Sophia would have a sleepover at Mika's - it was a silent agreement.

OOO

"The next time you get a call about her, you _will_ let me know, Rick," Michonne said, her jaw set with determination.

"What? Why? Don't you believe me?" Rick asked.

His wife shook her head. "I _do_ believe you, but I want to meet her. Maybe she will listen to me."

A bittersweet laugh escaped the officer's lips, knowing how closed off Carol was. "She's barely spoken more than two words to anyone. I'm the only one she doesn't send packing immediately, which is why the hospital staff calls _me_ when she's there. It took me months to earn just the tiniest bit of her trust. She doesn't even talk to Marie."

"The psychologist?" Michonne asked, her eyes widening. Marie worked at the department, and had the uncanny ability to get people to open up to her with hardly any effort at all. Young and old from all walks of life; they all loved her, and the young psychologist made a difference. "Everyone talks to Marie."

Rick nodded. "Not Carol." He sighed and raked a hand through his unruly hair. "I'm the only one who knows her real name - only her first name - but at least she told me. To everyone else, she is Nancy Miller from Montclair who is just passing through, paying her medical bills in cash."

"You have to let me try, Rick. Please," Michonne pleaded. "At least let me try."

OOO

Carol's face was a patchwork quilt of green, blue and yellow, a macabre testament of what she'd suffered. The injuries slowly healed, but she knew it was only because Ed had left her alone for a few days. Carol's past experiences told her the calm wouldn't last, however; and she was sitting on a powder keg. Ed's tension would build over the week - as always - and would be ready to blow as the weekend approached. Once again, she would be the convenient victim upon who he would unload his fury and bestial cruelty … as always. When the house was empty and clean, Carol took advantage of a rare moment of privacy and allowed herself a cup of coffee before she headed for her husband's computer.

Carol had always been torn between blaming herself for Ed's _punishment_ and the strange feeling something was wrong with him. The insane look upon his face - with every swing of his fist or unwanted thrust into her body - always sent a cold shiver down her spine. He enjoyed what he did and it made her lose hope that times would get better someday, because no matter how hard she tried to satisfy him, every attempt made it worse instead of better. It also seemed to feed his fury, fuel his rage, when she tried to hide the pain he caused her. More than once, he'd demanded her screams, and Carol couldn't comprehend the man she'd married.

It hadn't been the desire to know him better, but rather the need to learn about the monster's intentions when she'd begun spying on what he was doing on his computer for hours every evening. Perhaps if she knew what was on his mind, she would be able to please him and her life would improve.

Ed had forbidden Carol to touch his precious computer, but every morning - after Sophia had left for school and Ed made his way to work - she ignored his rule and switched it on. It had taken a few tries, but eventually, she'd typed the correct keyword and gained access to his personal data. Crushing disappointment had weighed her down when she'd found nothing noteworthy. None of the files had revealed anything pertinent, and even the browsing history had been blank … _blank!_ It was more than enough proof to know he was hiding something. She would continue to observe his browser history, waiting for the day he'd make a careless mistake. Her eyes widened exponentially, and she leaned forward for a closer look, unable to believe her luck.

A hand raised to cover her mouth, trying in vain to stifle a sob. Carol must have arrived at the very end of the internet where there were more perversions she hadn't even known existed. The more websites she visited, the more she felt her grasp on sanity loosening. Tears ran freely down her aching cheeks and burned like fire as pictures and depictions of torture flashed across the screen. Her body trembled and her breath caught, nearly choking her, over and over again. There were videos of sexual torture and pictures of torture instruments she'd never seen before.

Ed had also been on a discussion board to read about torture methods and _good_ practices such as choking to the state of unconsciousness. Ed had done this a few times and every time Carol had been sure, someday he would take it too far. When everything became just too much, she closed all the tabs and took a deep breath, feeling shocked and relieved at the same time about having the melancholy satisfaction of being proved right about her suspicions.

Carol fought to calm down. There had to be more to this, she thought, and turned her unanswered questions to Google. She found websites about role-playing, another article about mutual consent in a dominant/submissive relationship, code words and rules, but that wasn't what Ed wanted. He needed real pain without constraints or limits … _her_ pain. Realizing there had never been anything she could've done to prevent the abuse, her last spark of hope died.

Carol deleted the browsing history - hopefully, Ed wouldn't remember he hadn't deleted it yesterday - and turn the computer off. Taking a calming breath, it slowly became clear to her there was no hope. The horrible foreshadowing that someday Ed would probably kill her, sent a shudder down her spine, but she had to survive somehow. She had to protect Sophia. Carol had to escape with her daughter … before it was too late.

OOO

"It didn't take you long to wind up back here," Rick determined quietly as he sat at Carol's bedside. "I talked to Dr. Lozano. She told me you were still driving?" He shook his head. "This time your breastbone was broken and it caused … a cardiac contusion and arrhythmias," he said the last a bit hesitantly, trying to remember the correct terms the doctor had used. "What's next, Carol?"

Ed had kicked her so hard, this time she would've actually gotten away with the excuse that she had been in a car accident. Nevertheless, she'd driven herself to the hospital, even if she had barely been able to breathe.

"Who is this?" Carol asked brokenly, ignoring his scolding tone as her tired eyes wandered to the strange woman at the officer's side.

"I'm Michonne … Rick's wife," she whispered and took a seat at the other side of the bed, squeezing Carol's hand gently.

"Why are you here?" Carol asked quietly, silently fuming at Rick. She'd trusted him - even if it was only a little - and he'd brought a stranger to visit, divulging her secrets in the process. She felt so embarrassed and more than a bit disappointed in him.

"She wants to help you, Carol. _We_ want to help you and we already have a plan." he explained.

Brows knitted in a frown, Carol's skeptical gaze roamed slowly between the two of them, but her mouth remained firmly closed until Rick broke the silence.

"We have a guest room. I normally wouldn't be allowed to do something like this, but I can't say no when my wife wants to take one of her friends in to help."

"It's not big, but it should be enough until we can find an apartment for you," Michonne continued.

"I have a daughter," Carol whispered, every word an exhausting effort. The strong pain meds fought against the unbearable ache in her chest, but they also made her dizzy and tired.

"Is she safe at the moment?" Rick asked anxiously.

Carol nodded. "She has a sleepover at a friend's house."

Michonne retained her grip on Carol's hand and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The women couldn't appear more different, but Carol felt a connection with the officer's wife, She felt as if she could trust her, and it frightened her that she couldn't explain why. "It doesn't matter … there will be room for your daughter too. A friend of mine is a lawyer. She specializes in family law, and we told her about you. She would like to represent you in court."

"But I can't pay-"

"She's willing to do it _Pro Bono_ ," Michonne added, trying to soothe her new friend.

Overwhelmed by the offer, a genuine ray of hope - which sounded like a perfect plan - tears coursed over Carol's cheeks. The officer and his wife were virtual strangers, but nevertheless, they cared enough to reach out a hand to help her, ready to move forward if only Carol would agree. She knew she had to get away from Ed before he killed her, and if there was a chance to escape, she couldn't refuse.

"Carol? You still with us? Are we gonna do this?" Rick asked when she seemed to get lost in her thoughts. She nodded, her eyes fixed to the white blanket, knowing a simple nod had never meant so much … never _changed_ so much.

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **I know, this is only the first part of the backstory, but I had to introduce Carol's situation at this time. I hope you're not disappointed.**

 **Hugs and kisses to CharlotteAshmore, who's always having my back! I'm so grateful to have you in my life!**

 **Also, thank you to Geektaire for reading this over! Your skills are priceless!**

 **Special thanks to Amanda Hawthorn for being so awesome and inspiring!**

 **And a big thank you to the readers for still enjoying this story and the wonderful feedback! I wish you and your families had a great Christmas!**


	30. Chapter 30 - Last Day On Earth

**Chapter Notes:**

 **Some of you might've been pretty disappointed about the last chapter, but it was needed to build up the setting for this one, and I hadn't wanted to post a 9k chapter, because even this second part is still long.**

 **Attention, my dears! This one is pretty rough and trigger heavy so I thought I should warn you. Triggers for violence, domestic abuse (actual), rape (actual but not graphic), torture, child abuse, murder, suicide, and minor character(s) death. Let me know if you want a summary of this chapter in the next update, if you refuse to read it, but still want to know what happened.**

 **OOO**

 _"_ _Hope is a dangerous thing."_

 _\- Stephen King -_

 _OOO_

Ed had allowed Carol to heal, and perhaps if her decision to leave hadn't already been made, she might have entertained a spark of hope for their future. Yet, it was simply a fact … he just _needed_ her. It was why he'd left her alone over the past few weeks, even going so far to be _nice_ , lulling her with false kindness - though half-heartedly - but at least he'd given her time to recover. He didn't need a broken down wife too weak to clean his house properly or cook his meals.

Sophia - _the annoying kid -_ had stayed with the Samuels as long as Carol had been forced to remain in the hospital, but Ed had been more than a little upset when Ryan had brought her home for a mere fifteen minutes to grab a few more clothes and school things she'd needed. His daughter had always been a burdensome nuisance.

The last few weeks, Carol had stayed in touch with Michonne. Ed had no idea she had a phone aside from the landline at home. He hadn't allowed her to have one, but she'd made a silent stand against him and had accepted Ryan's offer to take his when he'd bought a new one for himself last year. It gave her a feeling of safety - especially with Sophia staying with the Samuels' - and she was able to communicate with Ryan when things didn't quite go as planned and Sophia needed to stay longer with the neighbors.

Michonne and Rick had already prepared the guest room for Carol and her daughter. They'd also lined up a temporary job for Carol as an office assistant and signed Sophia up for a new school. Even the preliminary injunction - which would forbid Ed from going anywhere near his wife and daughter - was sitting on the judge's desk waiting for his signature. Yet the more time went by, the more Rick and Michonne doubted Carol's resolve to leave her husband. Their fears, however, were groundless. She was still resolutely determined to leave, and was simply waiting for the perfect moment to do so. She just wondered if that moment would ever come.

It seemed as if Ed were always home now, and even if he hadn't attacked her since her last stay in the hospital, she felt hassled and cornered, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sometimes, he would even come home earlier from work with some excuse for his presence … _I didn't feel well … I was worried about you … you're always alone and still healing …_ It was making her insane, and she was forced to dig deeply not to show her fear and revulsion. The great anxiety of his sudden presence, when he actually should've been at work, had held her back from finally making the necessary preparations to leave. Still having issues with her broken breastbone she needed to take it slow and be careful with carrying heavy things. Carol needed enough time on her hands, since she'd refused to take the help Michonne had offered her with packing. She just hadn't wanted Rick and Michonne to see where she lived.

OOO

Four days ago, he'd told her he would have to leave on a business trip - further training for his career - the perfect moment she'd been waiting for. Silently cheering to herself, she'd always wondered why an insurance salesman would need to attend so many seminars, but it would be the perfect window of opportunity to pack their belongings without worrying about him posing a threat to her health … again. Trips like these had always been a relief for her, a respite from the abuse, but this time, she would have a chance to preserve the tranquility and make a better life for her and her daughter.

The morning of his trip, she prepared breakfast for him and Sophia. She could barely contain her excitement, knowing it would be the very last time they would all share a meal at the worn table. In her mind, she was already packing their belongings. She wouldn't miss the place, not for one single second … even if the house had once been her dream come true. Rather, it had been her prison, her own chamber of horrors, a living nightmare hidden behind the manicured front yard and the quaint white picket fence.

Carol brought him to the train station - as she'd done so many times before when he'd gone off to one training seminar after another - tuning him out as he began bitching and moaning about the traffic and the fact that his company had only paid for a train ticket instead of a flight. In the back seat, Sophia had been absorbed in a book - used to her father's ravings - ignoring everything around her.

Dropping him off at the train station, Carol and Sophia had given him their lukewarm goodbyes, and left him there on the platform. Carol had then led her daughter back to their car and watched as Sophia buckled herself in the passenger seat. The atmosphere had immediately grown lighter, and the remorse - about her daughter seeing her father for the last time - was brief.

"Mom, I'm gonna be late!" Sophia said when her mother asked her to stay a little bit longer in the car after they'd arrived at Sophia's school.

Turning to her daughter, Carol gently placed her hands on the girl's shoulders and took a deep breath. "Listen, I have something important to tell you. You will go with Lizzie and Mika after school. Mr. Samuels will pick the three of you up. I have some things to do before I pick you up this evening. Ok, honey?"

"But I thought we could go to the movies after school and watch _Tangled_? You promised, mama!"

"Sophia," Carol whispered, slightly nervous about her daughter's reaction to her news. "We're going to be staying with some friends. We won't be going home again."

Sophia's skeptical look slowly melted into a bright smile as she finally understood what her mother was trying to tell her. "You mean … Are we moving out? We're leaving _him?"_

Carol nodded, allowing herself to share her daughter's smile. "Yes. I will pack our things and bring them to our new place … to our new friends, Rick and Michonne. They live at the other end of town. You don't know them, but I'm sure you will like them. Rick is a police officer … we don't have to be afraid anymore. We'll stay with them until we find a new place for the two of us," she said, slightly breathless as she watched tears of relief well within Sophia's eyes. Taking her girl into a deep embrace, she felt her own tears course down her cheeks. "I have a court hearing this afternoon, and I will pick you up as soon as I'm done so we can start our new life, sweetheart. Everything will be fine."

Mother and daughter released one another hesitantly, neither wanting to let go, and Sophia looked one last time into her mother's face - which was so full of hope - something she couldn't ever remember seeing before.

"I love you, mama," Sophia said as she opened the car door and hopped out.

"I love you too, honey!" Carol called, watching her daughter skip towards the school building. _We're almost there!_

OOO

It was almost noon when Sophia's things were finally packed away in the trunk of the car … clothes, books, board games and her most beloved stuffed toys and dolls. Carol had packed as little as possible, but she'd taken enough to ensure her daughter's comfort in a strange place. Sophia would already have to suffer the loss of her home. With the job Rick had lined up for Carol, she was sure she would one day be able to replace anything she had to leave behind.

Allowing herself only a single bag for her sparse belongings, Carol pulled a duffel from the hall closet and headed upstairs to her bedroom. She wouldn't need much, only a few garments which she would replace at the first opportunity. Busy rummaging through her meager wardrobe, it was easy to lose herself in thoughts of her shining future without Ed. She neither heard the front door close nor the heavy tread on the staircase.

"And just what the hell do you think you're doing, you little bitch?" Ed's voice sounded behind her with barely constrained rage. It sent the cold hand of dread to squeeze her heart and constrict her chest. _No!_

His voice petrified her in an instant, and the clothes she'd been holding slipped to the floor from her shaking hands, _No! No, no, no, no! This couldn't be happening!_ Slowly turning away from the closet, her eyes widened in horror, she couldn't suppress the shiver which skated up her spine to raise the fine hairs on the back of her neck. Unable to stop her body from trembling or the tears from falling, Carol realized she'd been duped, and she could taste the acrid twang of fear at the back of her tongue at what was to come next. _This can't be possible … this just can't be true! He was supposed to be GONE!_

Carol wracked her mind for a believable excuse - a trip with Sophia to visit friends, cleaning out the closet to donate things to charity she didn't use anymore, having the house fumigated while Ed was away - but she shot them all down, her mouth opening and then closing over and over again in desperation. Beads of sweat - due to his rising temper - dotted Ed's heated brow as he glared at her, his meaty hand locking around her upper arm in a death grip. No matter her reason, every answer would be wrong. He didn't wait for her answer, however; interrupting her thoughts right away with a closed fist to her jaw, sending her crashing to the carpeted floor.

Wordlessly, his fist coiled into her long curls, pulling her up on shaky legs. He dragged her down the stairs by her hair, Carol stumbling with every step until she fell. Her body didn't even fight to catch herself from falling, feeling every bone in her body jolt as her delicate form hit the hard wooden edges of each stair. Barely conscious, her weakened body came to rest in the hallway, Ed's cruel hands reaching for her again. This time his fingers wrapped tightly around her throat, and everything went black.

OOO

Carol couldn't bite back her groan as she slowly woke, pain radiating from her body in torrent waves. She could feel the cold tiles beneath her bare skin, but her face was swollen and her eyes refused to obey her commands to open.

"Damn," Ed chuckled with amusement, "you should see yourself. You look pitiful!"

She was dazed and disoriented, but she forced her eyes open, desperate to figure out where she was and what he'd done to her. Carol slowly took in her surroundings and realized she was lying naked on the kitchen floor, tied to the heater with scraps of white fabric which reminded her of her wedding dress. She'd lost her sense of time, but the daylight was gone, and in late November, she couldn't discern whether it was afternoon or night.

"Did you really think you could keep secrets from me, Carol? That you were at my computer, for example?" he hissed, kneeling a few feet away with a pair of scissors in his hand. The remains of - now she was certain - her wedding gown and the shorn remnants of her hair were spread all over the floor. _Her curls!_ Ed had denied her when she'd asked to dye them some years ago. They were brown, streaked with silver - just as her mother's had been at her age - but Carol had still been so proud of them. Now they were gone.

After her eyes had roamed over the damage, she looked up at him, searching for even a shred of humanity in his adamant gaze. "Let me go … please," Carol's pleaded weakly, her throat sore, her voice raspy from the abuse to her throat, but a sarcastic grin was all she received from the monster before her.

"Don't look like you're in any shape to be going _anywhere_ ," he laughed again. "Oh, by the way, you have some missed calls and a message from a Michonne … asking if you're alright. I dropped her a line for you, telling her she doesn't need to worry. You will call her later … maybe!" he scoffed, a glint of madness in his dark eyes. "I didn't even know you had a phone … until I found it a few days ago in the linen closet. This Michonne seems to be a nice person, but she's probably just as dumb as you are."

Despite the numb emptiness washing through her body, Carol whimpered, fresh tears spilling from her swollen eyes. The strong will to survive - which had built up slowly from the day she'd agreed to Rick's plan to leave Ed was gone - and the wish for her husband to end the nightmare that was her life became stronger. Carol had given up, and prayed for death, an end to her torment.

 _"_ _It will be over soon, honey! I can't wait for Wednesday … stay strong!"_ Ed cited the message Michonne had sent her the day Carol had finally been sure about the perfect chance to leave him. "Are you a lesbian, now? Well, it makes sense. That's why you weren't, you know, _appreciating_ me," he determined knowingly.

Carol sat scrunched against the heater, staring at the man in front of her, his sudden movement catching her off guard. She bit her lip to stifle a sob as he grabbed her legs and arranged her to lie flat on the floor, twisting until her still tied arms pulled painfully against her bonds. Hovering above her with a bittersweet grin on his face she knew all too well, he roughly reached for one of her breasts.

"God, you're so ugly, your tits are like pudding," he snarled. "But I will teach you to appreciate me, bitch! You'll beg and scream and cry as I break you down. Whatever it takes, Carol Ann, to make you learn you belong to me!" Pulling one of her breasts by the nipple, she suddenly felt his teeth bore into the soft flesh of the underside, the sensitive skin rupturing. Her agonized screams echoed through the house, his cruel hands flipping her over. Again, the sudden movement twisted her arms painfully, her head slamming into the heater, but the strength to scream faded away, and the sounds which did escape her were barely more than a weak cry.

The telltale sound of his belt buckle behind her, prepared Carol for the next painful assault, and she tried to lose herself within her mind as she'd done so many times before.

Ed's grunts filled the room, every thrust as he invaded her battered body tearing another small piece from her ragged soul, but all Carol could think of was her grief that she'd taken so long, missing out on her chance to escape her sorry excuse for a life … all the times he'd actually been gone and she could have run with Sophia, run to safety.

It was nearly as painful when he withdrew from her body than it had been when he'd entered, Carol thought, clenching her eyes tightly closed so she wouldn't have to watch him stuff himself back into his pants. Just the sight of his flaccid member made bile rise in her throat. When he was done, he flipped her over again without warning, and reached for the cigarettes hidden away in the pocket of his suit jacket, lighting one and taking a long drag as he came down from his high.

"The cigarette after, you know? Damn, I know smoking is unhealthy, but I just can't stop," Ed grinned.

It wasn't hard for Carol to read between the lines, anticipating what would come next. She hoped so badly he would finally put her down, end it all and relieve her of her misery. He would kill her one way or another … sooner or later. Perhaps Rick and Michonne would care for Sophia or help her find a new family. Carol owed it to her daughter to make a better life for her, but she'd failed miserably.

Carol could feel herself drifting away, her eyes closing in defeat when she suddenly felt the searing burn against the skin of her belly. She twitched, but Ed's hand wrapped once more around her throat, his weight settling on her legs to stop her from moving. He created a pattern of cigarette burns over her bellybutton … _letters …_ his name.

"Now it's perfect, my masterpiece … _Ed's ugly bitch …_ You're mine; you always will be," he spat, making it clear to her before locating an empty place on her belly to stub the cigarette out, the hand about her throat squeezing tightly.

A tiny smile of relief crossed Carol's lips. _No, it's finally over._

"The fuck you smiling about, bitch? What the hell's wrong with you?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Carol chuckled, a beatific smile upon her lips and what would hopefully be the last of her tears washing over her face as she tried to find her voice to whisper. "There's nothing wrong with me … not a thing. I'm going to die, so … no, there's nothing wrong with me anymore."

"You think you suffered enough, now?"

"No, probably not." she whimpered.

"Let's see who wins, bitch," he sneered, his lips close to her ear as his grip on her throat tightened. "I'm sure you'll miss _her_."

Carol felt fear unlike she'd never experienced before in her life … not for herself, but for her precious daughter.

 _No! Sophia!_ Her mind screamed, but there was no air to force sound past her lips. She would get her wish, but how could she go to the blessed peace of death without knowing her child was safe? Her nails bit into Ed's fingers, but her efforts were futile as black oblivion claimed her.

OOO

"We found her lying in the middle of the access road outside of the ER," Rick heard Dr. Lozano's soft-spoken voice, lines of stress around her mouth as she gave him a run down on Carol Peletier's condition. "Someone must have tossed her out of a car as though she was trash."

Rick's gaze snapped to hers. "Was the drop made in view of the security cameras? It would be a big help in tracking this perp if we had a license plate number, description of the car … hell, face recognition of the assailant."

"Not that I'm aware, officer, but I'm sure someone in the security office will be able to get you any footage our cameras might have picked up." The doctor heaved a shaky breath and ran a hand through her short, dark curls. "I've treated Nan- Carol so many times," she said, using the woman's correct name Rick had provided. "It's never been this bad. Nearly every bone in her left arm was broken, her right ulna, both of which I had to plaster. She also had arrhythmias again, hypothermia due to exposure for god only knows how long, bruises over ninety percent of her body. We almost lost her, Officer Grimes. We have her on a ventilator, and she will remain in intensive care for quite a while."

Rick cursed, his head bowing as his hands curled into fists against his hips. "There's more, isn't there? She stable?" he asked. Rick had known something was terribly wrong when Michonne had called him earlier. Carol hadn't shown up at court nor had she arrived at their house that afternoon as planned. The only sign of life had been a very short message Michonne had gotten from her. He'd been about to call Olivia to have her secure Carol's address so they could send some officers to her home when the hospital had called.

"Her attacker attempted to strangle her several times. It's a miracle he didn't crush her larynx, but it will be sore for some time after she wakes up, and it's possible it will take her some time to regain her voice. Furthermore, she has abrasions, cigarette burns, and … and he raped and … and bit her. She's stable at the moment. You could see her if you wish, but she's heavily sedated." She clasped Carol's chart tightly to her chest and dropped the pretense of formalities. "Rick, it's really bad. I didn't even recognize her at first. I've seen a lot since coming here to Grady, but never anything like this. He … damaged her," the young doctor explained. In her chosen career, she should be professional when it came to her patients and their injuries, but this case touched her deeply.

"Thank you, doctor," Rick replied with a grateful nod, walking straight to Carol's room. Someone should be there with her when she woke.

The doctor had been right; the person in the bed looked more dead than alive. The steady beeping of the monitors and the drip of the IV sounded eerie in the silence. Taking a seat next to Carol's bed, Rick dropped his face into his hands in desperation. How could their plan to help her turn out like this? The loud click of the doorknob drew his gaze to see his wife slowly entering the room. Michonne wordlessly took a seat on the other side of the bed, her lip trembling and her eyes filling with tears as she looked at the broken form of her new friend. She drew Carol's hand into hers and kissed her fingertips, ever mindful of her cast, her watery eyes seeking out those of her husband who shared her despair, pain and disappointment in silence.

"It's better you don't ask what all he did to her," Rick eventually whispered, unable to bear the weight of his wife's unasked questions.

"I should've known something had gone wrong, but … she almost never answered my calls. Yes, the message was awkward … which is why I tried to call her again later, but she didn't answer the phone. That's when I called you," Michonne explained, her voice quivering.

Rick was going to say something, but a knock on the door, followed by the head of his partner appearing in the crack, interrupted him.

"We have to go, Rick!" Shane hollered.

"I can't, I-"

"C'mon, it's important. I'll fill you in once were on the way," his partner insisted.

Rick was torn between his need to be there for Carol and the urgency on Shane's face. He knew he'd have to go, still on duty despite his personal turmoil. He caressed Carol's hand once more before he headed to the door, pausing momentarily to glance at his wife. "You're staying with her, yeah? I don't want her to be alone when she wakes up."

"Of course," Michonne nodded before her gaze fell back on Carol.

Rick removed the scrub he'd had to wear in the ICU quickly and blindly followed Shane through the halls to the elevator. Running outside to the squad car he was quickly infected with his partner's urgency. Shane had barely started the engine before he shifted into to gear and slammed his foot down on the accelerator, driving away from the hospital like a bat out of hell.

"Will you finally tell me what the hell is going on?" Rick asked insistently.

"A call came in a few minutes ago," Shane began, his eyes leaving the road only for short moments to glance at Rick as he explained. "It was a little girl. She said her best friend was staying with her, her older sister and their father. The doorbell rang, their father answered and it was her best friend's father. He stormed right in, knocked out the girl's father and then kidnapped his own daughter."

"I don't understand," Rick replied in confusion.

Shane took a sharp left, cars skidding behind him despite the siren and lights. "I'm gettin' there! The little girl was too afraid to do anything, but her older sister tried to stop him from taking their friend … in vain. He knocked her out too and made off with his daughter."

Rick was still confused about what his partner was trying to tell him. "What?"

"The girl who was taken … it's Sophia Peletier. The woman you told me about; isn't that her daughter? The woman with the abusive husband?" Shane asked.

Rick's eyes blew wide with horror as the gravity of the situation slammed into him full force. "NO! SHIT! FUCK! We have to find her … Oh, my god!" he roared.

"The department has issued an amber alert and sent every available unit to sweep the town. We have district nine," Shane explained further. "The chief is coordinating with surrounding counties as well. If Peletier tries to run, he has nowhere to go."

"Goddamnit!" Rick yelled as if his own life depended on it. His body felt afire with panic, unable to think straight. "We have to find her!"

"Don't lose your shit, man! We're trying our best!" Shane replied. He'd never seen his partner like this before.

OOO

"Daddy … where are we g-going?" Sophia was scared. She knew how angry her father could get sometimes, but she'd never seen him so out of control as he'd been only ten minutes before when he'd hurt Mr. Samuels and Lizzie and then grabbed her by the arm, jerking her small body along behind him.

"D-Daddy?"

"Shut up, for fuck's sake!" Ed bellowed at his daughter. Of course, he knew where he would find the girl. Despite never having gotten closer to the Samuels' than fifteen feet, he knew she stayed with them often, so he'd been able to take his time with his wife. They only lived a few houses down from them, so it had always been a very practical solution.

The man had opened the door, hesitantly peering out, but Ed had struck quickly, pushing the door open and entering the house without warning. He'd asked for his daughter, but the widower had whispered an excuse that the girls had already been asleep. Yet, it hadn't taken them long to appear in the hallway when they heard the ruckus downstairs. Ed's fist had brought Ryan to the floor. He hadn't expected the three girls to jump him, bravely forming a circle around the fallen man in a protective stance.

Sophia still couldn't imagine what they'd thought they could do to _him_. Ed had simply grabbed his daughter roughly by her arm and started towards the door. Mika hadn't been able to do more than hover next to her father, unable to do anything when the man - she'd only known from a distance - had reached for her best friend, pulling her right out of her small arms.

Lizzie - the braver sister - had jumped on his back as he'd tried to pull Sophia from the house, but a single blow from his massive fist had sent the girl hurtling against the banister on the staircase. Lizzie hadn't moved from her slumped position, and Sophia could only pray her friend was alright.

Sophia had followed him obediently after that, trying to make herself small and invisible - as her mother had taught her - so as not to incur his wrath, and now she was too afraid to ask him again as he was driving with her through the darkness. Would he bring her to her mom? Where would he take her? After endless minutes of fear, the car eventually came to a stop at a place she'd never been before.

Recently, the new owner of the site of the former factory had attempted to demolish the old installations and use the site for commercial purposes, but the place was still there, just as Ed remembered.

Sophia's eyes roamed over the strange place as tears began to fall over her lashes. _I'm scared, mama!_ It was getting too quiet in the car, only their mingled breaths and Sophia's fear interrupting the stillness.

Outside the car, it was quiet too. Not another human being in sight at the deserted site. She kept her eyes locked on the muted glow of the moon, the silhouette of buildings along the skyline, anything so she wouldn't have to look at her father.

It was the last thing Sophia would ever see, their breaths the last sounds she would ever hear. Now Ed would carry through on the last promise he'd made to his broken and battered wife, and would take that which she loved most. He just wished he would be around to watch her agony and revel in her pain. His cruel lips curled into a smirk at the thought.

Eventually, a scream echoed through the night, then a gunshot … and a second … silence.

At some point, the wail of police sirens broke the silence. Shane had to restrain Rick from rushing towards the car, preventing him from seeing the wake of Peletier's destruction against the innocent. He knew Carol wouldn't be the only one broken that night. Rick had found the girl, but not in time.

Later the experts would call this act a murder-suicide and close the file, but for the officer, it had been the biggest failure of his life. Ed Peletier had been a man who'd killed his daughter to once more hurt the woman he'd tortured for years, cowardly killing himself shortly after to escape the consequences.

OOO

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **Thank you for reading!** **I hope 2018 will be a great year for you!**

 **Feel free to tell me what you think, no matter if it's good or bad. I appreciate every opinion!**

 **This cruel part was on my mind even before I started writing the first chapter, and I'm relieved in some way, that it's finally written. I wish I could tell you that something like this is completely unrealistic and not believable, but working in a mental hospital taught me the dark abysses of human souls, especially at the time when I worked with mentally ill perpetrators.**

 **I have to express my high and special praise to my beta, CharlotteAshmore, who I definitely claim as my spirit animal. Thank you for your incredible beta work and your wonderful support, especially when I'm doubting myself. KISSES, HUGS** and **KUDOS to you!**


	31. Chapter 31 - Moving Forward

**Chapter Notes:**

 **Here we are with a new chapter, which takes us back to the present.**

 **It also contains the summary of the two last chapters, for the readers that refused to read them because of the warnings.**

 **OOO**

 **Summary:**

Officer Rick Grimes met Carol at the hospital, assigned to her case as she was admitted quite often because of Ed's abuse. The hospital staff had no longer believed her flimsy excuses about 'accidents', doing their duty and reporting her injuries as 'domestic abuse'. Rick spent a great deal of time at the hospital with her, eventually earning her trust. Nevertheless, she adamantly refused to accept his help to leave Ed. After the last attack, Rick finally got his wife, Michonne, on board, and they managed to persuade Carol to flee with their support.

Shortly before she made her decision to leave, Carol had discovered her husband to be a sexual sadist, finding proof of his perversions on his computer. The abuse would never cease, no matter how hard she tried to please him. The abuse continued to get worse, her injuries more life-threatening … all to feed his sick proclivities.

Weeks passed, and Carol planned, just waiting for the right moment to finally run with Sophia. It was difficult, because Ed had become suspicious and had begun showing concern for her since her last stint in the hospital. His attentions had merely increased her fear and paranoia, driving her need to flee once and for all. The doctors had warned another attack as severe as the last could very well kill her.

The time finally came where freedom appeared to be in sight. Ed would be leaving on a business trip, giving Carol ample opportunity to pack their meager belongings and run to the safety Michonne and Rick were eager to provide. It was a simple thing to drop her soon to be ex-husband at the train station and return home for the last time, gathering Sophia's things before starting on her own. Carol never got the chance. Ed's trip was a ruse. Amidst another attack, Ed revealed how he'd found the cell phone he hadn't even known she'd had until then, and the message from Michonne revealing which day Carol planned to make her escape. She would have new scars added to her already battered form, but Ed made sure she would survive, tossing her out of the car near the ER as if she were trash.

Peletier's next stop had been to the Samuels' to retrieve his daughter, leaving an injured Ryan and Lizzie behind in his wake of destruction, Mika thinking clearly enough to call 911. He abducted Sophia from the safety Carol had fought so hard to provide for her daughter, driving her out to an abandoned factory, taking her life and then his own … all to make sure Carol could never escape the pain of losing that which she loved most, so she would never forget the impact he'd had on her life. He took the cowardly way out, never paying for the consequences of his evil. Rick would blame himself for a lifetime. He'd found Sophia, but it had already been too late.

OOO

 _Now …_

"They waited before they told me … days … weeks. I was in shock and lost track of time. Everything was a blur back then. They told me over and over again because … I just couldn't believe my baby was gone. It couldn't be true … thought they were lying to me, but I couldn't understand why they would. I nearly went insane, believing she was still out there … somewhere," Carol whispered brokenly.

Of course, she hadn't confided every last detail. She hadn't had to, realizing he'd understood without words how hard it was for her to put her trauma to voice. At times, she'd had to stop when the words had lodged in her throat, the pain too overwhelming. And then he'd just held her - as he did now - offering comfort in the only manner he knew how.

Daryl nuzzled his nose against her soft curls. The woman in his arms seemed even more fragile to him than before. Despite what she'd gone through, she was still there. She hadn't given up, had in fact rallied her formidable courage and found the strength to go on. He admired her for it, though fear blossomed in his chest, fear that every one of his light touches might somehow be painful for her. How could she bear his touch or allow closeness in general? How could she trust anyone? Her trust in people had to have been shaken to her very core and destroyed irrevocably.

Of all the scenarios he could have imagined, what she'd told him outstripped even his wildest dreams. How could a human being act so cruelly? And above all, the monster had gotten away with his crimes without ever paying for what he'd done. A thousand and one ideas flickered through his mind like a movie reel of how he would enjoy punishing the wanker in the most brutal and horrific ways imaginable … one where Ed would pray for death long before Daryl would grant it. Yet, even then death would be too good for the bastard who had tortured Carol in such a despicable way. His fury drove him towards madness, and his heart shattered within his chest at the thought. Carol had to feel his pounding heart - pressed so closely to him as she was - her ear to his chest, her delicate frame molded to his as his arms enveloped her so tightly … holding her together.

Daryl's eyes stared into an unseeing void, unaware of his surroundings, too focused on his girl as he wondered if the world had simply stopped its spinning. _How could her world still turn when her reason for surviving Ed's cruelties, her precious child, had been ripped away from her?_ he mused. "How … how did ya manage to go on?" his raspy voice whispered, barely audible as it struggled past the wall of emotion lodged in his throat.

"I _couldn't_ , but somehow I had to find the strength to do so. I wanted so badly to follow her into death, but they wouldn't let me go. Nothing mattered without Sophia. I was admitted to a mental hospital where I remained for months in a state of limbo, refusing to speak to anyone," Carol murmured against his chest. "The pain doesn't go away, Daryl. You just have to make room for it … maybe … I had to try. There were still people who cared about me, people who wouldn't give up on me. They helped me cope with my _new life_ , and I felt I owed it to them to live."

Carol slowly released herself from his comforting embrace and straightened - looking at him with those big blue eyes which still held remnants of her story - and let her fingertips glide gently over his cheek. "Michonne and Rick were a great source of support during the worst times, and I had a wonderful therapist. Marie taught me if I gave up, Ed would win. He'd wanted to break me, but I couldn't let it happen … give him the satisfaction. So, I had to learn there are still reasons to smile and moments I can … _enjoy._ I fight for that _every_ day!"

There were no words as Daryl marveled at the power of this strong, beautiful woman. There was still hope shining in her eyes, the will to fight in her heart. It left him awestruck at how she'd been able to recover from such a cruel fate and struggle to find a new place for herself in the world. Carol had even told him about her scars … words which would remain etched for an eternity on her pale skin … words she hadn't been able to reveal to him. The shame about the things her husband had done to her had just been too painful. Daryl thought about his own scars, wondering if it was the sight of them or the reason he'd received them - what they meant - which made him reluctant to share that part of himself with her. Perhaps it was the same with her?

Life had been cruel to her - far worse than it had been for him - and yet she was so much stronger than he thought he could ever be. "Yer the bravest person I've ever met," was all he could reply. There were simply not enough words to explain how he felt.

Carol bit her lower lip, her expression waxing serious as she took his hand in hers. She was still able to donate comfort to others … to him. "And the guilt … I still feel it too, sometimes, just as you do. I feel guilty and wonder about all the _what ifs._ Would all of this have happened if I had left earlier … or later, just at the right moment? All the little things. If I had hid the phone better, or brought Sophia to Rick and Michonne … would the plan have worked? But I hadn't wanted to bring my girl to people she didn't know. She'd always been so scared for most of her life, and she was particularly afraid of strangers," Carol explained, taking a deep breath before continuing. "But it's not my fault because I didn't know what would happen. It's not my fault because it couldn't have been prevented … and it's not your fault either, Daryl. You cannot continue to blame yourself for what happened to your mother. Your mother, my daughter … none of this is our fault, Daryl."

A simple nod was all Daryl could manage. Maybe she was right in some way, and it was in no one's power to influence a merciless fate.

"I can't hear you, Daryl," she said, and through her tears she forced her lips into a tiny smile.

"Ain't our fault," he eventually whispered.

Again, their eyes locked, open windows into each other's soul. They had shared the dark secrets of their past and grown closer to one another with every second they spent together. Every word, every tear, brought them closer, strengthening the bond they had formed. The deep emotional connection and silent togetherness - which sometimes didn't need any words - allowed them to forget the heaviness of the world and the loss and pain they shared … if only for an instant. They were not alone.

Carol watched his gaze flutter down to rest briefly on her lips, and some of her pain melted away to be replaced by a warm curl of anticipation and heat. He still seemed undecided, and she wondered whether it would happen this time or if whatever had held him back before would cause him to hesitate once more. She hated these situations, and found herself weary of them. These almost kisses always left her disappointed, so she made the decision for him and interrupted the moment by turning her gaze away, her heart heavy as she rose from the bench. She was emotionally drained, and couldn't handle another thing at the moment. Neither was she angry with him nor did she wish to reproach him. Escaping this situation should only avert the pain of disappointment.

Yet the feelings he evoked in her weren't quite so easy to turn off as she would wish. Was she being selfish, she wondered. A moment before, they'd been seeking comfort, finding it in one another's arms, and now … the only thing she could think of was how a kiss from him - those incredibly soft lips - would feel against hers. She was pathetic.

Trying so hard not to look disappointed, Carol forced herself to smile. She'd known the day would eventually end and he would leave her, but she found herself greedy for his company. She didn't know what was worse … the lost opportunity to get closer to him, or the question of whether she'd let him go too soon. Instead of dwelling on her inner turmoil, she tried to make herself appear as relaxed as possible, slowly reached her hand out to him. "Come on, I think it's time to leave … I don't want to be here anymore."

When he rose from the bench to stand before her, it just came over her, the need to feel him close one more time, the closeness he allowed. He easily pulled her into another warm embrace, his whisper in her ear. "Yeah, let's go somewhere else."

The cruel sound of reality came in the form of a ringing phone, mercilessly ripping them away from one another. Daryl winced, his eyes wide as he swallowed hard, his hand moving to the cell phone in his jacket pocket. "Damnit … my brother," escaped him as he answered the call with trembling fingers.

"Uhm, yeah?" Daryl asked meekly.

"Where the hell is my damn car, lil' brother? I expected it to be at my door this morning. An' where the fuck are ya anyway, asshole? I thought I could rely on YOU, at least," Merle roared so loudly even Carol could hear his every word, and Daryl's shame grew immeasurably.

 _Crap! His brother's car … how could he forget?!_ "Uhm … I'll bring it to ya later. Don't panic … everythin' is fine. Still have somethin' to do here," he tried to sound as calm as possible … in vain.

Daryl could hear Merle's restless pacing on the other end of the line as the eldest Dixon snorted angrily. "I want my car now … in one piece and without a single scratch! Ya hear me, asshole?! I have an _appointment_ later!"

"Today? It's Sunday," Daryl replied in disbelief. Ever since Merle had started in the business, he'd always called a meeting with a client an _appointment_. If he met with any chick, he simply said it was a date. And neither was his norm for a Sunday, his preferred activity usually binge-watching his favorite programs on Netflix, a beer in his hand and relaxation his only concern.

"Sugar tits will be back from her business trip later and requires ol' Merle's attention. But anyway … mind yer own business. Ya told me ya needed the car for an appointment. Ya still with yer client? It's Sunday for you too, smartass!" his older brother snarled.

"S'not like that, Merle … this is different," slipped out of Daryl's mouth unheeded, making him nearly bite a hole through his tongue trying to catch them back. When Carol heard that, she couldn't resist the small grin which teased her lips.

"Thirty minutes!" Merle's voice roared again.

"An hour … see ya then!" Daryl replied quickly and hung up.

"That was Merle … uhm, my older brother. He wants his car back. Shit, I totally forgot," Daryl said nervously as his gaze returned to Carol.

"Yes, I heard," she whispered timidly.

"I think we need ice cream," he blurted out suddenly.

Carol's skeptical look was more eloquent than a thousand and one words, and a genuine smile bloomed on her lips. "Ice cream? Do you want me to go into sugar shock, or would you just like to see a few extra pounds on my hips?" she teased.

Daryl cupped her cheek in his warm hand, drawing her gaze to him. "Was thinkin' … uhm, we still have some time, y'know? Merle can wait, an' ice cream always helps when ya ain't in a good mood. Sometimes, that's the only thing we had at home when I was little."

"And that always helped?"

"Yeah, a lil' bit … c'mon, I know a good place," he grinned, his fingers twining with hers as they headed for the gate.

OOO

"The man at the cemetery, did you know him?" Carol asked, gleefully licking her ice cream cone. Chocolate, of course!

 _The old man? Hell!_ Of course, Daryl knew Dr. Hershel Greene, who'd run towards the _couple_ with a benevolent grin, smiling as he'd noticed them holding hands. Daryl had barely managed a nod as Carol had greeted the elderly gentleman with a warm smile, taking no notice to the way Daryl's gaze had paced between the two. Acting as if he hadn't known the man, Daryl had wished he could become invisible. He'd kicked himself mentally, realizing that wishing a hole would open up - in a cemetery, for fuck's sake - was completely inappropriate. Much like the phrase, _hiding under a rock,_ which didn't seem to work either.

"Yes, uhm, nah … hardly know him," Daryl replied, trying to focus on the road as he drove. Eating ice cream, driving, and answering uncomfortable questions was definitely too much to deal with all at once. They had decided to get their ice cream to go, because although Daryl didn't want to be rushed by Merle, they still didn't have time for a long break at the ice cream parlor. "Uhm … you seemed to know him. He a friend of yours?" he asked, trying to distract her from the topic.

"Not really. It seems like he's always there when I visit Sophia's grave, and sometimes we talk a bit. His wife died a few years ago," she said, biting into the waffle cone. "So, how do you know him?" She just wouldn't give up, wanting to know more about his life. _Why had he acted so strangely before?_ she wondered.

Daryl sighed, realizing he needed to be honest with her. "He's my doctor."

Carol nearly choked on the rich chocolate confection. "Oh! Uhm, he's an urologist. Everything ok with you? Are you sick?"

"Shit, no … damn. It's because of the job … I have to go there sometimes," he replied quickly, tripping over his nerves as his eyes left the street for a second and he saw her shocked expression. It made him feel as if he was making things worse. _Crap!_

"Carol … NO! Ain't what ya think … gawd! I'm very responsible in my job, and stick to the rules, but Glenn insists on regular check-ups … that's all. Everything's fine with me," he made clear. _And ya should've noticed that already, sweetheart,_ he thought.

Carol concentrated on her cone. Of course, she knew he slept with other women, but the images running rampant in her mind turned her stomach. Most of the time, she tried not to think about it because it hurt her so much, the thought of him touching another woman at all tearing at her heart. "I hope you're always responsible, Daryl … not only when it comes to your job."

The words slipped out softly, the filter between her mouth and brain apparently malfunctioning. Now, other thoughts reared their ugly heads to plague her. Did he have many women … outside the job? Women he really wanted? Did he have a girlfriend? Did escorts have girlfriends? Carol should simply stop thinking. It was making her crazy. She wasn't allowed to worry about things like that. He didn't belong to her, and he never would. _Goddamnit!_ she thought, regretting what she'd said to him even more than the musings in her mind.

Daryl couldn't even remember the last time he'd slept with a woman who hadn't paid him, but now he somehow felt exposed and … dirty. He'd always been careful - _responsible_ \- every single time, without fail, and besides, it wasn't as if it had happened often. If he was honest with himself, he hadn't been with many women, had never wanted it, but he hadn't even contemplated being with them without protection. The very thought of not using protection had always disgusted him, especially after seeing Merle deal with a case of the _clap_ more than once. Suddenly he thought of her, _his Carol_ in that context and his cock twitched. _Gawd, not now! This is not the time for this shit!_

"Yeah, always, and it ain't like that!" _Yer just making a fool of yerself, ya idiot! She knows what ya are!_ he thought and took a deep breath, his eyes glued to the road, so he wouldn't be forced to look at her and see condemnation in her eyes. "I'm not like that … ain't got no girlfriends or nothin'," he tried to make clear.

No girlfriends? She wanted so badly to ask what he'd meant by that. Had he never had a girlfriend, or did he just not have one at the moment? Carol was completely confused. A man like him could have ten women balanced on each finger. Hell, some even paid for him. But Carol also realized the subject seemed to make him uncomfortable, just as it did her. Then it could be that he wished she'd just mind her own business. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have questioned you like that. I've crossed a line. I think it's good that you go to regular check-ups. I do too."

Nodding shyly, Daryl still felt ashamed about the whole issue. In just a few more minutes, they would arrive at Carol's place. He would come in and then … what? Grab his things and say goodbye because he actually had to leave? _Fuckin' car!_ As unpleasant and tense as the conversation had been during the ride, the thought of having to leave her pained him. He didn't _want_ to leave. He wanted to avoid the questions which had cast him in a strange, awkward light, but he never wanted to avoid _her._

What the hell must she think of him now? He'd completely embarrassed himself. How could he bear for the day to end like that after all the time they'd spent together?

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **Thank you for reading!**  
 **I wish you a wonderful new year 2018!**

 **I am still overwhelmed by your reactions to the last chapter. I was so worried that I might be scaring you off, but I also offered to write a summary, which I did I. I hope it's fine!**

 **Many kisses and hugs for my brilliant beta CharlotteAshmore ... I owe her so much!**

 **And blame Coreen for the ice cream!**


	32. Chapter 32 - Well-Meaning Advice

**Thank you so much for your feedback! You can't imagine how much I appreciate it! :)**

 **OOO**

He stood before her, the garment bag hanging over his arm, an apology already written on his face. He had to go. Carol was smiling, even if a bit uncertainly, her arms wrapped around her torso as her fingers ran along her upper arms as if she didn't know what else to do with them.

Daryl's mouth opened and closed with indecision several times, unable to force the words past his teeth. "I …"

"I know, it's time," she murmured, her smile brittle with the effort to hold it in place as she broke the silence which had fallen between them.

Looking as if he were waiting for something, Daryl nodded slightly, and nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot. His eyes wandered everywhere but up to meet her gaze as he considered what to do. Longing for a kiss - as he'd done so many times before - he just didn't know how to put his desires into action. The heaviness of the moment paralyzed him, preventing him from even trying. A fortune would he have given for her thoughts. Would she want him to come back after he returned the car to his brother? What was he to her now? What were _they?_ Should he just do it? Would she be receptive? If he _could_ find the courage to kiss her, what then? He had to go, however. He couldn't kiss her and then just leave, knowing once his lips touched hers he would be lost.

"Daryl?"

His mind whirled with thoughts of the pleasure of her lips, everything else becoming nothing but a blur. "Yeah?" he replied, still unable to will movement to his limbs.

Suddenly, she realized what it was he was waiting for, and the veil of reality darkened the moment, disappointment weighing heavily on her soul. The money, she thought bitterly. He was simply waiting for his payment. The unrealistic desire - that after all this time, and the moments they'd spent together, the payment wouldn't be an issue any longer - burst like a soap bubble. How absolutely ridiculous.

"Oh, god! I'm so sorry," she gasped, one hand rising quickly to cover her mouth as shame colored her cheeks. She reached for her purse, the envelope still where she'd left it.

Carol blinked away the angry tears stinging her lids before he could see, and tried to keep her voice from quivering. "I know you were ok with less when we talked about it, but you stayed … until now. Is that okay?" she asked, handing him the envelope. He reached for it, and nodded, his gaze skirting away from her.

"Yeah, that's a'right," was his short and quiet answer.

"Will there be a problem because your doctor saw us?" She had no idea what the protocol was for such a thing. Would he get into trouble because he'd been with a client away from the privacy of the bedroom? Did Dr. Greene believe her to be Daryl's girlfriend? Did Daryl's job perhaps forbid personal relationships? Or worse … would Dr. Greene tell Mr. Rhee about seeing them together?

"Nah, don't worry about that," he whispered.

"See you?" Carol asked when she realized she couldn't prolong the inevitable.

"Yeah, sure."

"Thank you, Daryl … for everything," was the last thing Carol said before he walked through the door and scurried down the stairs. The front door closed softly, but to her it was louder than an atomic bomb, the hope she'd harbored that he'd come back to her, burning to ashes. He was gone, and she was alone … again.

OOO

"Goddamnit, Darylena … yer late, man!" Merle scolded as he snatched the car keys from his little brother's hand. "Ya still usin' th' excuse ya've been with a client until now, huh?"

"Ain't none of yer business, asshole!" Daryl snarled, and was just about to turn around to mount his bike when Merle grabbed his shoulder.

"Yer shittin' me, right? Ya met some chick, an' that wasn't part of the deal. I gave ya the car for the job, not for some cheap date!" Merle spat.

Clenching his teeth, Daryl hastily moved his upper body out of his brother's firm grip. "Shut the fuck up, Merle!"

The confused, furious expression on Daryl's face puzzled Merle. He couldn't ever remember a time Daryl had looked like that. He couldn't help but wonder what had his knickers in a knot. "I know shit 'bout women, so if ya need some good advice, ya know where to find me," he offered, but Daryl stormed away and got on his bike, barely securing his helmet before roaring away.

Merle stood there on the sidewalk, watching as his brother disappeared around the corner, hands in his pockets while a thousand questions pelted his mind. What the hell was wrong with him? Merle knew he'd never be able to pry the information from his tight-lipped sibling. Dixons weren't men of many words, and Daryl spoke least of all. Nope, not a chance in hell.

OOO

Turning on the TV, Carol tried to ignore the tormenting silence in her apartment. She settled in on the sofa and opened the pizza box she'd already set out on the coffee table. She caught herself as she reached for a slice, a sense of déjà vu washing over her.

Carol remembered the day Michonne had suggested the odd idea of meeting a callboy, remembered how she'd found the concept both exciting and thrilling. It was indeed, but the aftertaste was bitter, a little more each time, and now she was rather sick of it. She wanted to admit she regretted meeting with Daryl in the first place, but she couldn't, thinking of the good memories they'd made.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? She wasn't expected to become quite so attached to her paid companion. How should it end? Where could a relationship lead with him? Every time she dared to hope there might be something more between them, every time he had to leave, she lost another piece of her heart and the money she still paid him. Soon there would be nothing left of either.

Carol fished a slice of pizza from the box and toyed with the crisp edge of a pepperoni. She didn't want to be alone, especially after she had told him about Sophia. She needed him to heal the freshly opened wounds inside her. Opening up for him, she'd let him into her soul and shared her sad destiny with him. There - where she'd let him in - was raw and bleeding. Daryl, too, had opened himself to her, and revealed the guilt and heartache which still plagued him. Again and again, there would be people who would hurt others and blame them for their actions, perhaps to justify their own wicked misdeeds.

Carol's ears perked up, the dull roar of a motorcycle in the distance growing louder over the drone of her television. A small smile slowly crawled upon her lips, and with it, the spark of hope that maybe he'd heard her quiet call for him. But just as suddenly as it had come, it faded and disappeared back into the ether from where it had come, and disappointment was left in its wake. A decision had to be made, and no matter the outcome, it would leave a painful wound.

Later that evening, Carol rose to stand next to the mantle and blew out the candle she'd lit earlier and placed next to Sophia's picture. Taking the frame carefully into her hands, she let her fingers stroke gently over the glittering stones glued along the edges. "How would you look now, my angel? Would you still have so many freckles? I miss you … every day … so much," she whispered, and pressed the frame against her aching heart.

OOO

He drove too fast, just as he'd run too fast when he'd left Carol's apartment. The loud roar of his motorcycle did little to drown out the thoughts pounding through his mind in a raucous throb. The haunting memories of the time he'd spent with her were even more deafening. Her words still burned inside of him … words of humility and pain, comfort and support, every last one a treasured gem he would hoard away. After all she'd been through, it had been him she'd trusted to share her deepest anguish at the place which harbored the bodies of their loved ones.

He'd had to leave, yet it had been so hard to go, to take that first step which would carry him away from her. The envelope in jacket - sharp and jagged as the finest blade - was proof Daryl was still her _paid_ escort … something he was certain he didn't want to be any longer. Carol still paid him, as if by doing so it would set a clear boundary around her heart.

The trust she bestowed, the long meaningful talks … they were probably nothing more than part of the arrangement which he'd fulfilled successfully, the last piece of the puzzle towards the healing process for which she fought so hard. A strange mixture of anger and disappointment colored his grief over the way the day had ended. So many steps, he thought, bringing them one step closer to one another had been nothing but an illusion … wishful thinking.

Should someone be with her after such an emotionally disturbing day? He longed to be with her, to hold and comfort her, to feel her pressed against him as the last of her tears dried and she drifted off into slumber. How was she feeling right then? Was she lonely? Did she need him?

Without conscious thought, Daryl steered the bike eastward, allowing it to take him to her, driven by his desire to be close to her again. The depth of feeling he held for this woman still had the power to rob him of breath. Heated by the wild ride, the goosebumps nevertheless found their way across his skin as he reached her street, the fear of her rejection refusing to even let him pause at the end of her driveway. What would he tell her? What reason would he give for his sudden reappearance? She probably wouldn't want to see him before their next appointment.

Daryl cursed himself for a fool, continuing past the apartment complex and onto the next intersection. _Yeah, go over there, burst into her apartment and what … throw yourself at her, Dixon? That'll go over well. If you're lucky, she won't laugh before she throws you out._ It was better he hadn't stopped, he thought, kicking the bike into gear as the light turned green and heading towards home.

OOO

"What the hell is with you today, man? Focus!" Dwight hissed at him, rushing to get the wide metal pail beneath the outflow of oil.

Daryl's jaw clenched tightly as he jerked the pail out of Dwight's hands and positioned it. "Ain't like ya ain't never done nothing like this before, asshole," he replied sharply, shooting the man a look which could wilt concrete.

"Yeah, whatever, but you're gonna clean this mess up yourself," the skinny guy spat.

Dale, having watched the altercation from the doorway of his office, was quick to intervene. "Daryl, I think you need a break, son. Clean yourself up and go have a smoke. We'll deal with this." Dale patted him on the shoulder, and Daryl nodded, giving his co-worker another shit look before he walked outside. Dale had been right, he really needed a break.

The two men watched Daryl leave before sharing a look. Dale looked worried, and Dwight had question marks shining in his eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Dwight addressed his boss.

"I'd be willing to bet it's the same thing that was wrong with you," Dale said pointedly. "I think you two are more alike than you think. He saved your ass often enough … looks like it's your turn now."

Dwight needed a moment to comprehend what his boss was talking about, but eventually nodded and stalked off to the room where the cleaning supplies were located. Daryl had indeed covered his ass on more than one occasion because of an argument Dwight had had with Sherry, throwing off his day. It was only fair he has Daryl's back now and returns the favor, he decided.

Standing in front of the garage, Daryl inhaled deeply and flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette. He felt lost. A gust of wind carried the smoke away, and his gaze followed its ascent into the cloudy sky. He missed her … missed Carol, and was still wondering if he should've gone back to her. He couldn't even focus on his work because _she_ was everywhere. It was only Monday, and their usual appointment over the weekend - as usual - was far too long to wait. Yet, how long could he endure those meetings with her, having to eventually part, and the uncertainty he felt about her feelings for him? It was enough to drive him mad.

"Hey, are you alright, son?" Dale suddenly stood next to him.

"Yeah, everythin' a'right."

"I know it's not." Dale shook his head and put his hand on Daryl's shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Pfft, ain't nothin' to talk 'bout," Daryl replied sheepishly.

"But if … I'm here, you know?!" the older man said.

"Gotta go back in," Daryl replied, shaking his head as he turned around and went back into the shop.

The chaos was gone when Daryl went back inside, but he still felt awful about his mistake … and the reasons for it. He didn't want that idiot to clean up the mess he'd caused. Now he was standing in the middle of the shop, not knowing what to do with himself. He couldn't remember ever being so unfocused.

"Call it a day. I have everything under control here," Daryl suddenly heard the voice of his hated workmate behind him.

"What, why? Are ya off yer rocker?" Daryl asked, completely confused.

"Go on. See you tomorrow," Dwight said dryly, his arms crossed over his chest.

Only hesitating for a brief moment, Daryl shrugged and went to his locker, grabbing his clothes without a word. He would leave now, and found himself grateful for the reprieve. Yet, it wasn't a day off … not really. Dinner with Deanna awaited him later that evening.

OOO

"How was the wedding?"

Daryl inwardly cringed, his eyes skating towards the china cabinet, the buffet sideboard, and even down the long ornate dining table laden with dishes from the dinner Deanna had served, needing a moment to collect his thoughts. He'd known she would ask, yet still, he was ill-prepared to answer the question. "Uhm … it was ok."

"Ok?" she asked dubiously, brows raised. "That can't be everything. Now tell me."

Daryl sighed, leaning back in his chair and toying with the cloth napkin on his lap. "There were some good moments, an' some less than good ones … dunno, I don't really wanna talk about it," he evaded.

"You've been melancholy since you arrived, and you hardly touched your food. Was it so bad?"

"The food or the wedding?"

Deanna grinned. "Both?"

"Food was good, thanks … jus' ain't hungry. An' the wedding was good overall, I guess," he replied. Though he really didn't want to discuss the wedding and the many happenings at the reception, he knew he _could_ talk to Deanna if he wanted. Perhaps he _should_ talk to her about it. She might be able to provide the answers he so desperately sought … answers he hadn't been able to find on his own.

"We had some … I dunno … deep moments. Or at least that's what I'd thought. She confided a lot to me, an' I found myself openin' up to her as well. I-I thought it was …" he stuttered, his emotions ramping up as he thought over the weekend he'd shared with Carol.

Deanna's eyes widened with anticipation, wanting to hear more. "What? Go on; that doesn't sound so bad."

"She still … paid me," he admitted, nearly suffocating on the words. "I'm still a damn escort to her." He was angry yet sad, his hands fisting atop the table in an effort to rein in his emotions.

Deanna took a deep breath as she arranged her thoughts, biting her lower lip before she replied. "Have you ever thought she might think you wouldn't spend time with her without the business relationship between you? Maybe she's just as insecure as you are."

"She doesn't wanna … kiss me ..."

Deanna reached for the bottle of Merlot and refilled her glass, his statement taking her by surprise. She was all too familiar with the ground rules Daryl set with his clients. "You tried?"

Daryl searched for the right words. "There were situations - two, in fact - where it could've happened, but she backed away before I could even try."

Deanna shook her head, puzzled. "That doesn't make sense. Perhaps she was scared?" She paused for only a beat. "Did you set your usual rules with her?"

He hesitated briefly as he glanced up to meet her gaze. "Yeah, but she must've noticed I wanted to kiss her."

"Do you still leave your shirt on when you take her to bed?"

Daryl nodded, embarrassed.

"Daryl Dixon," she lamented in exasperation, "you haven't given this woman any reason to think she might be more to you other than a client. After what you've told me about her, I'm pretty sure she really likes you, but I also think she's very insecure and afraid of getting hurt. I mean, what would you do if a client made it clear she had a crush on you? You wouldn't meet her anymore, right? Maybe that's what she is afraid of," Deanna explained.

Could he really be so dense? Chewing on his thumbnail, Daryl tried to internalize what Deanna had tried to explain. He had never considered it this way before. He needed to think long and hard about what he should do, what he _wanted_ to do. What did he have to lose? There was a small spark of hope which could grow into a flame if he dared just take a chance.

OOO

"No, I just refuse to believe that!" Michonne sputtered indignantly. "I saw you two together with my own eyes, Carol. You gave the bride and groom a run for their money with your lovey-dovey shenanigans."

Adjusting the phone in the crook of her neck with a soapy hand, Carol tried to explain to her best friend what had happened between her and Daryl after they'd left the wedding. "I told you … he was waiting for the money," she whispered sadly into the telephone as she reached to shut off the kitchen faucet, done with the few dishes.

"Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, as Shakespeare would say. Carol … you can't tell me you weren't happy at the reception, and then everything you've told me about later that night, the day you spent together collecting flowers and visiting Sophia's grave, his mother's grave, everything you two talked about … it just can't be true!" Michonne simply couldn't believe the couple she'd seen at the wedding supposedly still had a business relationship. "There's no way he can be that good of an actor."

Carol dried her hands on a dish towel and ran her fingers through her curls. She huffed a sad sigh. "I just don't know. Maybe he became my friend through the course of it all and now it's like a friends with benefits sort of thing … friends with _paid_ benefits. He's so sweet and attentive, so caring, but yet he still wants money from me, Michonne!"

"You really need to sit down and talk to each other, sort this out so you finally know where you stand. I won't put up with this any longer," Michonne said, the warning clear in her tone.

"Me neither. It can't go on like this," Carol admitted determinedly.

"When you see him tomorrow, the two of you need to finally clear the air." She groaned. "God, help us if Rick should ever find out about this."

Carol shuddered at the thought. Rick would lose his shit and neither she nor Michonne would be safe from his rant. "I'll try it," Carol finally decided, hoping she wouldn't be making things worse with Daryl instead of better. The last few days, she'd been so restless and torn. Even at work, she couldn't find distraction. Tomorrow she was scheduled to see Daryl, and this time they _would_ have a conversation which would hopefully bring clarity. It was time.

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

Sorry for the wait, but real life has me firmly under its control! In addition, you may look forward to a new project, which is planned with my 'Blood-Pony'-girls. But I won't reveal more!:)

Thank you for reading and your support!

I send lots of kisses to CharlotteAshmore, who always does a great job and has become so important to me! Love ya! *kisses*


	33. Chapter 33 - Wanna Show Ya Somethin'

**Chapter Notes:**

 **This was one of my first** head canons **on this story, and I want to emphasize that it's not only me who makes you like this story so much ... who turned it into what it is now. My beta CharlotteAshmore has a big part in it and deserves all the love! I thank her so much for her wonderful work and her tireless commitment! Without her, the whole thing wouldn't have been possible!*kisses***

 **OOO**

The week had crawled by agonizingly slowly, but Daryl had been as happy as a child on Christmas morning when the email had come from Glenn, confirming his weekend appointment with Carol. He would see his girl again on Friday.

He couldn't help but hear his mother's voice in the back of his mind repeating the sage advice she'd offered when he'd been a small boy. _You gotta do what's right, baby. You promise me you'll always do what is right. It's so easy to do the wrong thing in this world. You just have to make up your mind not to go down that path. If it feels wrong, don't do it, alright? If it feels easy, don't do it. Don't let the world spoil you … you're so good, my sweet boy._

Even Merle had once said something similar. _Sometimes, lil' brother, ya have to risk yer ass if ya really want somethin'._ That was exactly what Daryl would do today. He wouldn't sit back and let destiny or fate decide things for him. He would take it upon himself and grip it with both hands. Daryl would be brave for the very first time and pray it would pay off. For a moment of risk, the gain would be phenomenal.

OOO

The expression on Carol's face was hard to read as she opened the door that evening. Her lips formed a welcoming smile, but it in no way matched her eyes where something lurked which Daryl just couldn't quite place his finger.

"Hey," she whispered, and he entered with a hopeful smile, taking her into his arms without hesitation. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply, her scent flooding Daryl's mind and washing away all the pain of the last week. She trembled slightly against him as her delicate arms held him tightly. He felt as if he'd finally come home.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, pulling away. When he declined, she added, "I would also like to talk to you."

"I wanna show ya somethin'," he mumbled shyly, excitement building within him as he ignored what she said, focusing on the sweet smile she sent his way, the one he loved so much. There would be time to talk later, but right then he needed to do this before his courage failed him.

"Something I haven't seen yet, handsome?" she asked teasingly.

Nodding, he took her by the hand and led her - as a matter of course - to her bedroom, as if he already lived there. "C'mon, it's important ya see it."

Releasing Carol's hand, he left her standing by the door and began to remove his jacket, but when he started to unbutton his shirt, she interrupted him.

"Daryl, I …"

But he was determined. Leaving her no time to speak, Daryl stepped closer and took her hand, squeezing it softly as he asked in a whisper, "Do ya trust me?" And the words just died on Carol's lips as she nodded with a tiny smile.

"An' I trust you," he added, taking step back again.

She stared at him expectantly, eagerly anticipating what he would show her, as she watched his nimble fingers begin to unbutton his shirt.

The shirt fell silently to the floor, and Daryl turned around, giving her his back. Hesitantly, with trembling fingers, he grabbed the hem of his undershirt, taking another deep breath before slowly raising it over his head. The biggest shame he'd carried with him for years was now on full display. He fought against the cloying panic clawing at his breastbone, his heart thundering as he waited for a reaction - any reaction, good or bad - from his girl. She alone had the power to destroy him, and it was blind faith in her, the love he held for her which allowed him to maintain his sanity in the ensuing seconds. Carol's gasp - and then the resulting silence as if she were holding her breath - was like a knife to his chest, unable to judge the sound without being able to see her expression.

"Some ugly tattoos, y'know," he said to break the silence, his chin dipping towards his chest. "I thought I'd show ya … so there's nothing left to hide from ya anymore."

"T-These?" she asked, her labored breaths loud in the stillness as she gently stroked her fingertips over the tattoos, drawing back as he flinched slightly and then reaching for him again. There, he wasn't used to touch … especially not of the gentle variety. In silent conversation, it was understood by them both that it wasn't about the tattoos. It had _never_ been about the tattoos.

Carol's fingers became bolder, more courageous as she allowed them to wander. Running her fingertips softly over the broad scars, deep ruts and raised ridges, she carefully mapped out his perfect imperfections. What she had happened to see the other morning was just the tip of the iceberg, and they didn't look to have been caused by an accident at all. Someone had done that … purposely to him. "What … who …" her voice broke on a muffled sob. "Who did this to you?" she breathed softly against his skin as she regained her composure.

"Ya said it wasn't my fault … what happened to my mother, but my ol' man was of a different opinion. He punished me for not being there. He took me out to the woods the very same day I lost her, and he punished me … so I'd never forget," Daryl confessed quietly. He'd never dared to think it would feel so good to be touched there as he gave himself over to Carol's tender ministrations, learning to enjoy her gentle, questing hands on his back.

Delicate arms encircled his upper body, one of her hands finding purchase on his stomach, the other coming to rest on his chest, just above his wildly-thundering heart. Daryl smiled faintly as he felt her cheek settle on his shoulder blade, her tears awash on his skin, and then healing kisses. He shivered, and a ball of warmth dominated the center of his chest behind his breastbone where his love for her dwelled, quickly dispelling his earlier panic.

"You an' me … we have a lot in common, y'know. I knew it all this time, an' now ya know it too," he whispered raspily and felt Carol nod against his back. He wished he could freeze that moment in time so she would never have to let him go.

Never had Daryl felt so vulnerable, but neither had he ever felt so accepted by anyone. Time passed, how much exactly, neither of them would ever know. At some point, Carol released him and touched his shoulder, gently commanding he turn to her. He did so willingly, meeting her teary gaze with his own. His hands brushed over her upper arms as she traced the scars on his chest and stomach. She paused over every cigarette burn and blemish, her azure eyes filled with so much compassion.

"They're older," he explained, unable to look away. "I don't even remember what I did to make him so mad at me, but I don't think it really mattered … not with him."

"They always find reasons," she sobbed softly. "B-But why now? What m-made you decide to show me today?"

"I don't want ya to be afraid to show me what's under there," he murmured, his gaze pointedly staring at Carol's peasant blouse. She reflexively hugged her arms protectively around her upper body, averting her eyes away from his. "Don't be afraid … not with me," he whispered, running his hands over her upper arms. It distressed him to feel the tension radiating from her delicate frame.

"I-I can't. You shouldn't have to see that, Daryl," she whimpered, stringent tears which she refused to let fall, burning her eyes. "You don't _want_ to see the damage done to my body."

"Why would ya think that? Why are ya afraid?" He lifted her chin with a gentle finger, and brushed his thumb over her trembling lower lip with the pad of his thumb. _Tread softly, Dixon,_ he admonished silently. "There's never any reason to be scared with me … _never_ with me."

Carol choked back a sob. Daryl was loving and gentle, everything she'd ever wanted in a lover and friend. She knew he would never hurt her, but she couldn't relinquish the harsh reality of her fears. "I don't want you to s-see what he did. I don't want you to see what I've become because of him. Daryl, I'm ashamed. It's so ugly. I am –"

"Stahp! Do ya think I'm ugly?" he asked bitterly, and Carol quickly shook her head.

"Of course, not! You're …" She couldn't help but smile through her tears which now fell in earnest. "You're a very handsome man."

"An' I think yer beautiful … always. C'mere," he whispered, roughly pulling her into the circle of his arms, soothing her, his lips pressing against the curls at her temple as she cried.

"The scars, that ain't who we are. There ain't nothin' could ever make me see ya differently, woman. Don'tcha know that by now?" He continued to whisper sweet sentiments against her hair, Carol's fingertips gliding over the uneven skin of his back as she clung to him. Her touch, her warmth, just like the scent of her skin, overwhelmed him, a small groan of pleasure escaping his throat, almost too quiet to hear.

But Carol felt the vibration deep within her core, and it was a balm to her battered soul. He made her feel cherished. Yet the words still stuck in her throat, held hostage by the bonds of her tears and insecurities. Carol's biggest fear was his rejection, despite never having felt more secure with someone other than him. Never had she trusted anyone so _much._

"I never thought it would feel so good … havin' someone touch my back," he murmured lowly, easing back just a bit to meet her gaze. "I don't want _him_ to be the last one who touched ya _there_." Starting at the hollow of her throat, he gently guided a tentative hand along the valley between her breasts and down over her belly, feeling the hated bustier beneath her thin top. "I wanna touch ya, Carol, feel ya.. I want ya to feel _me_ here."

The hesitant little nod she gave him was almost imperceptible, but Carol knew she could trust him if only she could let go of her fears. She forced herself to be strong, to gather her courage around her like a cloak, fighting to overcome them. She winced, biting her lip to still its quivering as his fingers slowly reached for the tiny pearl buttons along the front of her blouse, sucking in a shaky breath and holding it unconsciously. Of course, they'd gone further before, but the thought of losing her protective bustier, her armor, of baring her body and letting him _see_ the evidence of abuse upon her skin, her weakness in allowing it to happen, made Carol feel raw and vulnerable.

Daryl could hardly contain his excitement, but he was determined to proceed slowly and carefully so as not to increase her anxiety. With trembling fingers, he opened the buttons of her blouse and pushed it off her shoulders. Carol's chest rose and fell erratically with frantic breaths as his hand ghosted over the silk, lace and whalebone lingerie, and he pressed his brow to hers in a gesture of comfort. "Shh, it's a'right … I've got ya," he whispered soothingly. "It's jus' me, Carol … jus' me. Trust me, sweetheart."

He nuzzled his nose against hers before inching back to meet her eyes. So often he'd already opened the hooks of the bustier in his mind, so often he didn't even have to look at what he was doing, holding her frightened gaze with his instead. Despite his anticipation, he was cautiously reading her expression, searching for objections which didn't come … though Carol's lips parted several times without uttering a single sound.

Her hands clung to his shoulders, her eyes on his as one by one each hook fell open, and he was careful not to allow his fingers to touch her skin. _Not yet_. One of her hands moved to his chin, to physically hold his gaze locked with hers, terrified his eyes might wander elsewhere.

"I should've burned the damn thing when I had the chance," he lamented with a half-smile. That little bit of levity brought a tiny curl to Carol's lips. It touched her to see he really seemed to want her, flaws, imperfections and all, just as she wanted him.

"You still have no idea what you're getting into," she whispered almost teasingly.

"I want ya, Carol … all of ya," he growled, his voice deep and laden with desire she couldn't mistake. And with those words, the last hook was released and the bustier landed on the floor with a dull thud, leaving her gasping in surprise. But there was no time to think of how he would react when his eyes drifted lower to the scarred skin of her belly. He was in no hurry to look. Instead, his arms banded around her and pulled her against his chest, a low groan of satisfaction rumbling in his throat as his hot flesh came in contact with hers.

Skin on skin, they were both overwhelmed by this hitherto unknown feeling. Carol could feel his thundering heartbeat, hear the labor of his breaths. Her soft curves fit his lean lines as if she were made for him, and she drank him in with her senses and began to savor the moment. With one hand delving into his soft hair, and the other wrapped around his body, she pressed her face against his throat.

His lips caressed her shoulder as eager hands swept gently over her back, exploring the newly discovered skin there. She was perfect, every inch of her. "That … That's what I've wanted for so long, Carol," he whispered against the goosebumps peppering her porcelain skin.

When she looked up at him again, he could see the tracks of her tears on her flushed cheeks, but she smiled slightly with what he hoped was relief and pleasure. He was sure it must feel just as overwhelming to her as if was to him. Unable to wait any longer, he gently brought his hand up to cradle her face in his warm palm, his thumb brushing feather-lightly against her delicate cheekbone, banishing her tears as he vowed never to let go of her again.

Carol watched his gaze drift down to her lips, her heart pounding in anticipation. This time there was no reason to avoid him. There was no belief he wanted to kiss her because of a perpetrated act for a crowd, nor did there seem to be any indecision on his part as he'd suffered at the cemetery. She could feel his desire to the very depths of her being, their deep abiding connection drawing them magnetically towards one another. His soul reached out for hers in a loving caress she was helpless to deny.

Daryl brought her closer to him, leaning forward barely an inch, his breath fanning warmly over her face. Carol sucked in a small gasp, waiting for his eyes to close before her own followed. She could hardly believe it was finally happening as she felt the feather-light brush of his lips - for which she'd been yearning for so long - touch hers. It was just a whisper, a breath, and she didn't know what moved her more … that it had happened, or how it had felt.

Her courage finally asserted itself, and she leaned into him, adding a bit more pressure, the firmer touch she craved. And after what could have been a second or infinity, their lips separated, fueled by their curiosity to read each other's gaze.

Daryl didn't know what to do with himself, so many sensations battering his body at once. He had to calm down, but her warm, soft curves pressed flush with his, the smooth glide of her lips on his own, caused his body to react instantly. He knew she could feel his arousal, and his face suffused with color, but instead of shying away, she pressed herself even closer to him, and he couldn't help rubbing his hips against hers. "Damn, I'm awful," he groaned despite the quirk of his lips.

"You're not," she smiled breathlessly. "I like that ... you feel … you feel so good, Daryl."

Feeling a hunger he'd never experienced before, he knew he wanted to taste her again, to discover and learn more of what had eluded him before. The need was so powerful, and he craved it deeply within the core of his being.

In addition to the admiration and devotion she witnessed in his eyes, there was something else she couldn't quite interpret. He looked helpless, clueless, as if he didn't know what to do. Though he made his living with his body, he had little experience with kissing, it seemed. It made sense, considering the 'no kissing' rule he practiced so diligently.

Taking the lead, she closed the distance between them again, and his arms crushed her to his chest. She proceeded carefully, unhurried as she explored the warmth of his lips with what could be considered chaste sipping kisses until her own parted slightly. It seemed to have awakened his courage and sent his self-control off on hiatus, losing himself in the feeling of tasting and exploring on his own. Soft lips clung to each other as bold hands made their way across exposed skin. He gasped as Carol's tongue darted out to touch his, and a flash of light permeated the symbiosis which their two bodies formed. It was electric, stealing his breath, and he wanted _more_.

Sparks flew inexorably between them when the need for air made them part. Laborious breaths escaped them as Daryl pressed his brow to hers, his fingers caressing the flushed skin on her neck in a languorous rhythm.

"I didn't think kissing was your thing," she finally breathed.

"Yer lips are my thing ... only yers," he replied and kissed her again, tasting the smile on her lips. His kisses moved over her chin, along her neck and lower, until he suddenly fell on his knees.

Carol gasped in shock, startled by his actions, and again she wrapped her arms protectively around her body. "Daryl!" she whimpered, but he simply smiled up at her before he slowly began to spread gentle kisses over the soft skin of her belly.

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **The two actually needed 33 chapters and 100k words for that moment! Maybe I set a Caryl-Slowburn record! :-D**

 **I hope so much that you liked the chapter!**

 **I know, you may be a bit mad at me that I've split it here, but trust me ... you'd rather have the cut here than anywhere in the next situation!;)**

 **Many thanks for reading! Let me know if you like it! I was so excited to post that!**

 **And CharlotteAshmore, there are just no words for how grateful I am to you for your support! *Hugs+Kisses***


	34. Chapter 34 - New Discoveries

**Chapter Notes:**

 **This chapter contains mature content and adult themes. I have to admit that it wasn't easy to write this chapter. Everyone has great expectations for this moment, which want to be fulfilled! Please don't forget that I'm writing everything which happens in this story for the very first time. So I was very excited to write this situation, if you know what I mean! :)**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

 **OOO**

Carol's arms were still wrapped tightly around her upper body. Her breath labored and panting, every intake of air she drew in burned with the fear of rejection, mingled with a tentative spark of hope for his possible acceptance. She didn't want that spark to build, hope always having failed her in the past, but he hadn't pushed her away … not yet.

Slowly, she could feel herself responding to the little cherishing kisses he spread to every inch of her exposed skin, her damaged flesh which had never known such a tender touch. Apparently, it didn't seem to bother him, or it could be he just hadn't yet seen _what_ he was kissing. A cautious hand stroked her lower back, pressing her closer to his hot mouth as the other caressed her belly, gently trying to nudge her hands away, not wanting her to feel she had to hide from him. It took her aback as she noticed his closed eyes.

It was more important to him to feel her rather than to see what she'd kept hidden for so long. Daryl lost himself in her, the satiny softness of her skin … just feeling, tasting, breathing her in. He couldn't, however, ignore her hesitancy to expose herself to him, and he wondered how he could get her to release her groundless trepidation.

He stopped, slowly opening his eyes as he tilted his gaze up to meet hers. He could look his fill, simply glance down and stare openly at her scars, but he wanted her permission, her consent. He would never do anything to go against her will. "Don't hide … please. I didn't hide from ya, sweetheart. Please … may I look?" he crooned gently, holding her gaze, refusing to break that connection with her.

Some of the tension eased from Carol's body, and she softened under his admiring gaze, slowly allowing her trembling arms to fall to her sides. She was still afraid, but she wouldn't let the fear paralyze her or send her fleeing.

Lifting his arm slowly, he reached up, his fingertips gently cupping her cheek, pausing briefly before he let the touch drift over her delicate collarbone. His calloused hand moved to the valley between her breasts, halting for a breath to feel the rapid beat of her heart beneath his palm. Languidly, he continued down to her navel, his gaze tracing the same path his hand had traveled, mapping the invisible line of his careful movements.

She was so beautiful. He took a deep breath, a shiver wracking his body, the scars on his own back twinging. He knew pain … suffering … torture inflicted by someone who was supposed to love you. He could feel what she'd suffered as if it were his own as he read the light lines on her body. Those disgusting words had absolutely nothing to do with the wonderful woman standing before him. He could see her beauty amidst the blemish. She was his sun, and nothing could dull her radiance.

"Yer so beautiful … don't ya know that, Carol? None of this is true … _nothin_ '," he whispered with vehement passion. "Beautiful … so beautiful." He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her belly, not a single scarred line where she was most vulnerable missed by his ardent lips and warm tongue, repeating words of affection and adoration after every touch of his mouth to her skin.

A storm of scalding hot tears rained over her cheeks, a choked sob betraying the bittersweet smile she wore as she believed him. She would always carry the weight of her scars, blemishes of which she'd never be rid. They weren't beautiful as he claimed, and she would forever hate them, but he saw through the marks on her skin to what was the beauty beneath, and that was more than she'd ever dared to dream possible. The stones she carried heavily upon her soul became lighter as the sensations on her skin built, her fingers delving into his soft hair to caress his scalp. Her body began to relax as the trembling in her limbs receded, and she felt more comfortable with every soothing touch, with every second which passed. "Daryl, please … please, I need you," she whispered, meeting his ardent gaze, tugging gently at the soft strands wound about her fingers.

Acquiescing to her request, he rose shakily to his feet, the desire to feel her kiss once more urging him on, his eyes wandering to her plump lips. He watched them widen into a smile, and relief poured through him.

Before he could claim her kiss, however; she reached for him, pulling him into the circle of her arms. Skin on skin, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, reveling in his warm scent and solid strength until she sought his gaze again. Carol's lips met his in a gentle give and take, for which she'd been longing for so long. She brought one hand up to caress the side of his throat, the steady thrum of his pulse beneath her fingertips soothing as she brought the other up to bury in his hair. Her lips glided slowly over his, and the feel of his rough lips on her softer ones sent little electrical shocks jolting through her body again.

Unable to wait any longer, he pressed himself closer, bringing her flush against him as he deepened the kiss, their lips molded together, their tongues united in an age-old dance of desire. Kisses which had begun in shy, timid exploration now exuded hunger and greed while his hands explored her curves, unable to get enough of her.

Carol whimpered with need as she felt his arousal press firmly to her core, increasing her own desire, the heat emanating from him nearly unbearable. She wanted to feel him with every fiber of her being, to have him fill the emptiness - not just in her heart and soul - but in her body as well. The need for air drove her to break the kiss, but he didn't move away, pressing his brow to hers. She shared a breath with him, his breathing in sync with hers, excitement heavy in the air between them nearly thick enough to cut.

She pointedly glanced at the bed, and couldn't suppress the blush which rose to her cheeks, but he understood her silent plea, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth.

Daryl grinned sheepishly as he looked down at himself. Aside from having lost his shirts, he was still fully clothed, and he was quick to toe off his shoes. He could hardly wait to get rid of his pants, his erection straining painfully against the rigid denim of his jeans.

Delicate hands made the quick decision for him, reaching for his belt buckle to free him from his predicament, opening it with deft movements. A relieved breath escaped him when the button popped free and the zipper was lowered. "Thanks," was his raspy response to the long-awaited relief.

She felt the shiver travel through him, and grinned mischievously as she watched his face flood with color, helping him push his jeans over his hips and down his long legs. "Is it so bad?" she chuckled teasingly, brightening the seriousness of previous events.

"That's what ya do to me," he replied with a half smile, reaching for her hand to lead her to the bed. A bit shy and insecure, he urged her back onto the duvet, never breaking eye contact with her. He didn't want to miss a single second of her response to his touch. He craved it more than his next breath.

"We don't have to do anything, y'know … but I wanna touch ya so badly. Do ya want that? Do ya want me to touch ya?" he whispered as he lay beside her, his fingers gently gliding along her upper arm. He felt her lips brush his shoulder.

Carol answered with her lips, feeling there was no need for words, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him down for a kiss. The elation she felt, having been granted the freedom to kiss him, was incomparable. She gasped as he pulled her flush with him once more, rolling her beneath him in an effortless move, her body pliant in her desire. Her lust-filled gaze raked him from top to toe as he hovered over her.

For a mere heartbeat, Daryl worried he would scare her, but instead of showing any fear, she pulled him closer and clung to his body, enjoying the sense of security she felt in the circle of his arms.

Now, it was the fabric of her jeans which brought him to the edge of despair. Her legs were wrapped around him, desperately trying to pull him closer, and almost clumsily, he began to fumble with the button on her pants while unable to bring himself to break contact with her. He wanted her so much, yet he still fought to take it slow. It was difficult when the blood he needed to supply his brain was amassed elsewhere. _Smooth, Dixon!_

Suddenly, her lips parted from his, abruptly ripping them both from the heated situation. Staring into his steel-blue eyes, she breathed frantically as her fingertips made a slow caress from the center of his chest, along his taut belly to the waistband of his boxers.

Daryl arched a brow and looked down at her pants, a slow grin spreading over his lips. Of course, there was more than his boxers which needed to go.

Wherever this might lead, it would be a big step for them both. Daryl drew in a deep breath, frantic to calm his racing heart and stuttered breath. The kisses and newly exposed skin between them was new territory, and excited him more than he'd thought possible. Carol trusted him, and that was something he treasured, something he'd never take lightly. He would have to be observant and careful to read her. He couldn't let his desire, uncertainty and shyness - which she shared - cause him to do anything to frighten her.

He kissed her, a feather-light brush of his lips on hers, almost tentatively as his hand slid over her stomach and halted at the button of her pants. With trembling fingers, he popped it free and lowered the zipper.

It was as if she'd just been waiting for this, her thumbs wandering under the fabric, and Carol lifted her hips to help Daryl push the garment down and off her legs. Breaking the kiss, Daryl smiled, his eyes soft and loving, holding so much affection for her. She could feel how much patience and mindfulness he practiced for her, and she loved him all the more for it.

Daryl settled half beside her, melting against her form, his thigh coming to rest between her legs, his bare foot hooked around her slender calf, grounding her to him, assuring her he wasn't going anywhere. His palm moved slowly to caress her thigh, sliding his fingers lightly over the lace of her underwear, moving towards her hip where his thumb paused to swirl an intricate little pattern then back to her belly, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His touch was unhurried, no goal in mind aside from a gentle exploration of unchartered territory he'd long been denied. He wanted to take in every detail of her body, to know her by touch alone, and to have her become accustomed to his loving caress where before she'd been most vulnerable.

Carol had never felt so secure, so beloved and cherished, yet vulnerable, her body exposed and fully on display for his perusal. She mapped his back, his muscles leaping beneath her fingertips as she buried her face against the crook of his neck. It was easier to concentrate on the sensations he wrought from her sensitive skin without having to watch. She still found it difficult to look down on herself and see his fingertips gently caressing her scars.

"Carol … look at me," he breathed, and she searched his heavily-lidded eyes as he continued to caress her. Shyly, his fingers reached for her underwear, fondling the lace. She knew without a doubt what he wanted. She wanted it as well, and didn't hesitate to let him sweep away the last layer adorning her body.

"That doesn't seem quite fair, though," Carol whispered teasingly as she slid her palm over his boxers, feeling the weight of his throbbing erection. His breath hissed out between his clenched teeth as she gave him a gentle squeeze before tugging on the waistband.

Without ceremony, he yanked them off a bit clumsily before returning to her. For the first time ever, his body came in contact with hers, devoid of barriers, and a small undignified whimper sounded in the back of his throat. He clung to her, reveling in the pure exquisite perfection of his woman. In slow, roaming motions, his cautious hands moved over her velvety body, hungry to feel with his fingertips any part of her not in direct contact with his body. A little moan issued past her lips, and she tightened her embrace on him, every curve fitting perfectly to his own lean lines as she wrapped a leg around his waist. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and his cock twitched dangerously close to her already slick heat. It was nearly too much for him to bear. One wrong move in this sweet sensuous torture, and he would lose it, entirely too quickly.

She was sure he would now position himself in the cradle of her thighs as he straightened up on his forearms, and an unexpected rush of sudden nervousness arose within her. It would happen, and … her teeth sank into her lower lip to still its trembling, taking a heavy breath through her nose. She wanted it to work so badly - wanted _him_ so much - but the fear of being _useless_ at this still burned painfully, ramping up her fear.

But Daryl didn't waste a single thought on taking that step. Instead, he claimed her lips in another deep, searing kiss before sending his hands on another quest to learn the feel of her satiny skin. He dared to cup one of her breasts, the soft mound fitting perfectly into his palm. Incredibly silky, aside from the sensitive peak which instantly hardened under the gentle brush of his thumb.

For this woman, he needed at least ten hands, tongues and lips. He was just too desperate and excited to decide where to touch and kiss her first. Again, his lips clung to hers, his hand moving to her other breast, watching, looking forward eagerly to her reaction to his touch, and Carol didn't disappoint, moaning into his hot mouth as she leaned her body into his caress, longing for more.

Writhing in pleasure beneath him, Carol let her hands glide over his body. Never before had she felt so close to anyone. He smiled sensually as his lips left hers to draw a wet path along her throat, teeth nipping gently, his tongue following to soothe the sting. A feral glance met her before his kisses spread over her collarbone to dip into the valley between her breasts. It had almost looked as if he wished to devour her alive, but now she was certain of it.

Agonizingly slowly, his mouth explored the swell of her breasts, remembering the one time he'd been allowed to kiss her there. At the sight of the indefinable scar, he realized why she hadn't felt comfortable with having him proceed further past the barrier of her bustier. Even there, she had been hurt, and he brushed his lips to the small scar, his gaze seeking hers, needing to read her emotions, praying he wouldn't see fear in the lovely depths of her azure orbs. There was no fear, no objection, her head falling back to burrow into the pillow as small breathy moans of pleasure swept past her lips, a sure sign of her enjoyment.

Carol wanted his mouth everywhere, even there. She had never been afraid he would hurt any part of her. Instead of pain, she felt pleasure, desire, which sent a thrilling heat spiking through her entire body. His lips closed over her nipple, sucking and nibbling the sensitive peak with the utmost care. Her back arched as she felt a hand glide down to her core which was flooded with the result of his sensual torture. A deep whimper escaped her throat as his fingers hovered over her heat, and her hips took control as she leaned up into his touch. It was too much, yet not enough.

All the while, he had avoided letting her touch his aching cock, hard as stone, dripping with need since before he'd rid himself of his boxers. Carol squeezed her thighs around his hand where it pressed against her core, and he groaned as she inadvertently brushed against his groin. The slick silky folds rubbed against him, and his thumb found her sensitive bundle of nerves, his ministrations already causing her body to quake with the need for release. He wanted to taste her and internalize her heady flavor against his tongue, the taste he'd missed so much. He wanted to bring her there first, no matter what. His self-control wouldn't last much longer, but he didn't want to disappoint her if they proceeded to the next step. It would be her choice, but he was on edge, regardless.

She needed him so much, it was nearly painful, a burning thrill unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. She'd never wanted a man so much, and even though penetration had never brought her anything but pain - even before her horrible experiences with Ed - she wanted to finally _feel_ him. Carol couldn't fathom how she could be longing for something she'd always feared. Never before had her body begged for such unknown stimulation, nor did she even know if it would bring her pleasure or more of that which she was accustomed. She would have loved to call upon him to finally satisfy this longing, but despite her passion and desire for him, she quarreled with herself. Never had she been in this position, nor had she ever been allowed to take the lead like this.

And as Carol continued to debate with herself, he changed the game once again, removing his hand from her center, bringing them both up to squeeze her breasts together, hungrily rolling his tongue over both stiff peaks in sweet lapping strokes. He didn't like the little furrow which had formed between her brows. He could feel her becoming impatient, restless under him. She needed release, yet she was losing her focus, her mind whirling amidst a myriad of _what ifs_. It brought a surge of pride to well in his chest that he was able to read her so well. He adapted to suit her needs, kissing hotly down her belly, paying homage to her little belly button before moving lower to her mound. He was determined to position himself between her thighs, to feast upon her, his only thought to bring her pleasure. Yet, before he could, he felt her fingers card into his hair, tugging his gaze up to meet hers.

"Daryl, I …" she breathed. Her damp skin glowed, her lips slightly parted, her breathing labored, but she stuttered to a halt, not knowing what to say or how to say it.

Undeterred, he continued, his tongue dipping to taste her wetness, losing him in her warmth and softness. He could feel her trembling once more, her hand burying deeper into his hair, tightening minutely, enough to make him shiver with the slight pain.

"C'mere," she whispered excitedly, having fought her silent battle with her fear and won.

Anxious to please her, he moved to hover over her, not expecting her to pull him down to her in the next breath. He held himself stiffly between her legs, hardly daring to move, and she took his mouth with greedy yet gentle insistence, twining her tongue with his. He couldn't help but groan into her mouth as he fought to maintain control of his body. She wouldn't let him pull away, wanting to see the passion and fire in his eyes, her hands roaming hotly over his chest as she brought him closer to her.

Breaking the kiss, she cupped his cheek. "This is about you, too, Daryl. You hardly let me touch you … and I want to touch you so much," she whispered, her hand sliding from his cheek, along his chest, her blunt nails scratching lightly over one of his nipples. Another deep groan rumbled low in his throat as her other hand on his back felt the muscles bunch and tighten beneath his skin.

"It's just too much, y'know? Yer just too much, Carol," he breathed heavily with half a smile. "Damn!" he hissed as her hand wandered down his stomach and found its destination on his erection, which she cautiously enveloped with her tender fingers. Her thumb glided over the already wet tip as she wrapped his whole length a little tighter and stroked him gently. He closed his eyes and had to admit, he was completely at her mercy.

Carol released his cock, and he dared to open his eyes again as he felt her move beneath him. Her thighs cradled his hips, her hand moving to his shoulder to pull him even closer to her. He let it happen, melting into her form, another almost shy kiss to her lips as his tip poised at her slick entrance. Supporting himself on one arm, he cupped her cheek with his other hand and pressed his brow to hers. One hand caressed his nape as the other gently swept over his back before settling on his hip. She wanted it … she wanted _him_.

Daryl forced his eyes to remain open, refusing to lose eye contact with her, to break their connection as he slowly pushed into her, barely an inch. A little further, and his tip slipped past the tight ring of muscle. He held his breath, just as Carol did … until he heard the air hiss quietly past her clenched teeth, her brows knitted.

He tried his damnable best to ignore how exquisitely good she felt around him as he took in the exact moment she winced in pain. Because of him, she was in pain. Daryl never wanted this wonderful woman to suffer again, and certainly not because of him. Never again! Alarm bells shrieked loudly in his mind, and he wanted to retreat immediately, but her hand on his hip tightened its grip. He didn't move an inch as he looked down at her, worry for her well-being written all over his face. But she held him, pulling him ever closer. The control rested with her, yet he couldn't stop the internal battle he waged over what he should do.

"We can stop, anytime ... always," he whispered in despair, but she just shook her head slightly and pulled him to her for a kiss, her mouth soft and inviting with no hint of rejection or fear as his body succumbed to her grip.

Almost in slow motion, he inched forward cautiously, always watching and waiting for the _stop,_ which didn't come. He could almost feel her pain, for although she was wetter than she'd ever been before, the tightness he felt was incomparable to anything he'd ever experienced.

Carol clung to him as he peppered her cheeks with tiny kisses, her nose and mouth as he continued to enter her with slow, cautious moves. Her slick warmth felt better with every inch he gained, and yet he just couldn't afford to allow himself to enjoy it. How could he if she was in pain?

Carol sucked in a deep stuttering breath, her body trembling. How could her body resist when she wanted him so much? His heavy length stretched and filled her, slowly but steadily, and though her muscles still protested the unfamiliar intrusion, she needed it, reveling in the feeling of having him so close.

At some point, they both froze, blue meeting blue, sharing a gasp as they realized it had actually happened. Daryl lifted up barely an inch, his gaze wandering to where their bodies were finally joined.

Carol's arms closed around him, bringing his lips back to hers for a searing kiss. She caressed the small of his back before moving back to his hip, her warm touch setting the pace as he moved slowly. Every small thrust allowed his body to smoothly glide into her, each retreat causing her to yearn for his return. Hesitantly, her hips came to meet his with each pull and push, and he felt her body relax, her relieved breaths pouring into his mouth with every kiss. He released her lips with a moan, leaning back to look at her, and one of her hands rose to cup his cheek, a small smile turning up her lips. He smiled back with relief, pressing his lips lightly to hers, his thumb gently wiping away the small tears which glistened at the corner of her eye.

Daryl no longer knew where his body ended and hers began, continuing the sweet rhythm she guided, a beat which encouraged his body to melt with hers, his heart, his soul. He relished each of her moans as they washed over his ear, the sweet sound of her enjoyment filling him with joy … dizzy with the knowledge he'd brought her pleasure and delighted her senses. He gave himself to her completely as she spread her legs even further, taking him deeper. As if one were cast in shape for the other, they fit perfectly together. She buried her face against his shoulder, and he pressed his face against her throat as their flowing movements deepened and slowly increased in pace.

Carol couldn't remember when the sweet pain morphed into pleasure, but the more she relaxed, the better he felt inside her. His hardness brushed gently but insistently against her inner walls, meeting places she hadn't even known existed. It had never felt like that before, and she had never expected this amount of intensity. She had long lost control of her body when it surprised her and demanded _more._ She needed him like the air she gasped as the pleasuring warmth flowed to every nerve ending.

Suddenly, his movements became erratic, his body trembling in her arms, his muffled groans rasping over her damp skin where he clung to her. She held him tightly, wanting to feel him come, enjoying the feel of him in her arms as he lost that last thin thread of his control. Her body surrounded him as lightning flashed through his form, and she could feel his heart pounding wildly next to hers. A few twitches of his body, and she heard his breath finally calming. Carol couldn't have been happier as she brushed her hands over his back, his cock softening inside her as he lingered.

His eyes were confused as he looked up, searching for words. "Damn, I ... that came so suddenly. I can ... Ya didn't," he tried to explain and made an effort to get up, but she refused to release him.

"Shh, just stay ... hold me, okay?"

"But, ya didn't-" he whispered desperately.

"That's not what this was about, right?" She just smiled and cupped his cheek. "I've never felt this way before ... never felt so … so good." she said, kissing him again as she enjoyed his closeness and almost made a purring sound as he kissed her back so passionately. She made him feel that everything was perfect, just how it was.

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **By the way, it was not me who forgot the protection here, but our two did. :D**

 **More about this in the next chapter!**

 **Thank you for still being here!**

 **Many thanks to CharlotteAshmore for the special support she gave me while writing this chapter and her wonderful polish! You are amazing! *kisses***


	35. Chapter 35 - Not Enough

**Thank you for hanging on! I appreciate your feedback! :)**

 **OOO**

Carol was right. It did feel incredibly good to stay connected for a while _afterwards._ Supporting himself on his forearms - so as not to become too heavy for her - Daryl remained where he was, his head resting on her chest as she slowly weaved her fingers through his hair and over his temple. Each brush of her hand, every scrape of her blunt nails, sent another wave of lassitude through his sated body.

At some point, he hesitantly moved to release his body from hers. He felt boneless, and Carol shot him a mischievous grin as she nodded, knowing they couldn't stay that way forever. His breath hitched as he moved, his eyes going wide. _Oh, hell!_

"Shit … we, uhm … we didn't use anythin'," he suddenly realized. What his body had perceived immediately when it had happened - as unbelievably good as she had felt - was only not dawning in his mind. _Damn blood circulation!_

Carol, too, hadn't thought twice about protection as lost as she'd been in the moment. Perhaps their subliminal unconscious desire had been to feel one another without barriers. Nevertheless, now she wondered if he regretted it. He had always been insistent on his rules before.

"Is this a … a problem now?" she asked meekly as he finally came to rest beside her, opening his arms invitingly for her to snuggle into his side. There was no remorse in his eyes, just concern, and she allowed herself to find shelter in his embrace.

"Ain't never done it without … uhm … y' know I'm healthy, but -"

"Never?" She looked up at him in surprise. Except with her, he'd never had sex with a woman without a condom? Carol was more concerned with the question of _why_ he hadn't used one with her than the reasons as to why a man of his age had never done it before with other women.

"Never! But … uhm, could somethin' … happen … y'know?" he asked timidly.

A relieved smile curled the corner of her mouth as she shook her head. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, he hadn't mentioned his rules. "We don't have to worry about that. I can't get pregnant, Daryl," she assured him. "So, everything is fine, or …" she hardly dared to ask.

"Yeah, sure … it's a'right," he answered meekly as he blushed to the tips of his ears, his palm caressing her cheek as she inched closer to kiss him again.

The kiss was lazy, but just as sweet-tasting as those they'd shared before … eager yet taking their time in gentle exploration. Daryl reached for her hand - which rested on his chest - and laced his fingers with hers, feeling her fingertips brush over his knuckles.

Carol felt as if she'd finally come home, yet at the same time as if she were taking her first step on a long, exciting journey she could begin with him. She hungered for him, insatiable to discover and learn more about him and what else they could experience together. Yet she was cautious - almost shy - when she realized, of course, he would need time to recover. He'd kissed her awake and caused the intense desire raging inside her, a desire she couldn't seem to bring under her control, the need making her restless. She needed more of him. As much as Carol had enjoyed feeling him as the rush of pleasure had taken control of his body, the way he'd clung to her, this fire inside her still raged.

But she needn't have worried, feeling Daryl's hands on her again, his fingertips curiously brushing over her soft curves under the blanket. Goosebumps reappeared on her damp skin as his tongue darted out to taste her. Testing the waters, his touch trailed over her soft breasts, causing the sensitive peaks to react when Daryl gently squeezed the warm swell in his palm. Deepening the kiss, she pulled him closer and moved into his caress as his hand wandered down her belly until his fingertips found the area where Carol needed him most.

A deep throaty moan turned into two as they fought to catch excited breaths, their lips parting from one another but still so close. Steel blue and azure met and clashed, both startled yet expectant.

"Oh, uhm … I'm sorry," he whispered softly against her lips, his fingers trailing through the marks of his release on her body.

"For what?" she asked breathlessly, confused, already longing for him to continue his exploration.

"That ya have to deal with this now. Do ya want … uhm … should I get somethin'? he asked worriedly. This unfamiliar situation made him uncomfortable … for her. What if she didn't like it, or was disgusted?

"I don't mind. Does it bother you?" she wanted to know. If she was being honest with herself, she liked it. It wasn't just his marks, but hers as well, and while she'd always felt somehow dirty in this situation in the past, with him it felt different … natural and right.

"Naw," Daryl shook his head. At the moment, he was coming to realize he liked the feeling beneath his fingertips, as well as the thought she didn't seem to mind it either. "Do ya want … more?" he asked cautiously, kissing her sweet mouth again as his fingers trailed along her slit, seeking more.

Daryl pushed the blanket away, having felt too hot and stuffy beneath it as their temperatures rose. Their relieved sighs filled the room as the cooler air hit their heated bodies. "Can't get enough of ya," he whispered against her throat.

Carol took advantage of the new freedom she had with his body, questing hands seeking more contact with every inch of his bare skin, mapping his lean lines, reveling in his heat. Her hand curled over his hip, pulling him flush against her, gasping as she felt his throbbing arousal come in contact with her thigh. For a brief moment, she wondered how he could be ready again so soon, but it was a welcome revelation regardless.

Never had she been so bold as she took his hard length into her hand without hesitation and pressing her demanding core more firmly against his hand. The need to feel him left no room for doubts or worries about herself or what she was doing. One of his fingers passed through her folds easily, sinking deeper into her, the heel of his hand giving her bundle of nerves - swollen and sensitive - the pressure it craved.

Without thinking, Daryl's hand moved to her hip as he turned on his back, guiding her on top of him in a hurried motion. She squeaked in surprise at the unexpected change in position, her hands gripping his broad shoulders as she caught her balance, her eyes wide with shock as she came to rest on his thighs. "I don't know if …" she tried to put her sudden doubts into words. Not only did this position make her uncomfortable - because she was on full display - but she also had no idea what to do. There was no need to tell him _this way_ was unknown to her. He already knew.

"Jus' try it," he quietly suggested as his hands settled in the small of her back, offering her support. He withdrew one to run slowly over her breasts and stomach in a calming caress. Her chest rose and fell beneath his palm in a mixture of fear and excitement. "Ya set the pace … jus' do what feels good for ya," Daryl added, admiring the beauty of her face and form in this position, the trust radiating from the deep pools of her eyes.

Carol leaned forward, capturing his lips in a brief kiss before catching his gaze, losing herself in those steel-blue eyes which always seemed to give her a sense of security. Gently she reached for his cock, resting hard and heavy on his stomach between them, and he hissed as the sensitive skin immediately responded to her touch.

"Yer cruel," he breathed as her thumb slid over the wet tip of his cock and Carol pressed her forehead against his as she smiled impishly. He couldn't look away as her delicate fingers enveloped his entire length firmly, rising to her knees to position him at her entrance. Carol let her cautious fingers sense what she couldn't see as she brought their bodies together, not daring to avert her gaze from his.

Moving slowly, his tip finally touched her slick entrance, taking him in barely an inch. Slowly, he filled her as her hips got a mind of their own and instinctively closed the distance with his. Daryl's breath stuttered in his chest, his eyes falling closed as his teeth sank into his lower lip. Carol smiled, seeing the effect she was having on him, feeling empowered to know she could bring him such pleasure.

Her walls stretched to accommodate him, but she adjusted without pain as she slid down on him, her soft, tight folds almost sucking him in. The angle was so different, so unfamiliar, and when their hips met, she felt his tip brushing a spot which took her breath away.

For just a moment, she held herself still, staring at him in awe before she dared to move experimentally. Her body slid along his cock, slowly, torturously, until she felt him brush that spot again.

Daryl writhed beneath her, lost in everything which was his woman, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he thrust up into her slick, warm sheath which enveloped his quivering cock in unbridled sin. His heart thundered against his ribs, every pleasure receptor in his body sparking to life. Sweat beaded his brow, their panting breaths in sync as they filled the room, the air so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Feeling every inch of him, every vein of his thick cock rubbing against her inner walls, her core built a slick symbiosis with his hard length as she increased her pace. "Can ya come this way?" she suddenly heard him groan through clenched teeth. It wouldn't take him much longer to topple over the edge.

"I don't know. I … but it doesn't matter," she replied breathlessly. As good as he felt within her, however; she didn't think it would be enough. Perhaps the more they did this, the more inhibitions she would lose, and she would eventually be able to climax. Then again, it could be she just couldn't come this way.

Daryl's grip on her hips tightened minutely, and a meaningful look was enough for her to understand his intentions. Determined yet gentle, he changed the position and guided her onto her back, losing their connection briefly.

He hovered over her, leaning down to take her lips, his gentle calloused fingertips drawing a long line of touch which began at her neck, continued to her breasts - teasing her hard nipples - before reaching for her wet core, pink and swollen, throbbing beneath his palm. "Of course, it's important, sweetheart. I wanna … I wanna feel it. I _need_ to feel ya come around me when I'm inside ya," he rasped in a throaty whisper, his eyes narrowed with want.

No one had ever looked at Carol with such wanton desire, and never had anyone ever said such things to her. It made her shiver until her entire body trembled with desire. She nodded and reached for his cock as she tried to speak. "I need … god, Daryl –"

Before she could form her brazen thoughts into coherent speech, she felt his mouth descend once more to her breasts, nibbling gently on the rosy peaks as she watched two of his fingers disappear into her over and over again, his thumb circling her swollen nub.

"I want it so much, Carol … I want ya so much," he breathed against her skin. "I wanna feel ya come for me … around me. I wanna know it's me you're breakin' apart for … _my_ woman." The last was whispered so softly, he doubted she could hear through the mindless haze of pleasure enveloping her, but he hadn't been able to trap the sentiment behind his lips. He reached for one of her legs to position it onto his shoulder, changing the angle once more.

Carol was startled, but only for a moment because Daryl could do anything with her, so much did she trust him. The molten heat which had taken over her body also left no room for doubt. Every hesitation, every inhibition burned away in her need for him. Never before had her body longed for something so much. A feeling she needed more than air, more than water when she was dying of thirst. There was only him, only her Daryl.

He pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee before running gentle fingers along her inner thigh, repeating the caress on her other leg as he spread her open further, his touch tender but firm. His piercing eyes centered on her, and she studied his strong upper body and muscular arms holding her in place.

Daryl took his cock in hand and glided it along her slit, his tip brushing against her entrance, sliding along easily through the wetness of both their juices. With a slow push, he brought their bodies back together, and she felt it immediately … never had he achieved such depth, and a long low moan burst free from her throat, her head bucking wildly against the pillow.

His thrusts were deep, intense, sinking and retreating in an agonizingly slow rhythm. She wanted to scream, yell, to implore him for more as her hips rose to meet each thrust. She fought to hold her eyes open against the overwhelming pleasure, needing to maintain their connection, her hands blindly searching for support. She reached out, fisting one hand in the sheets, the other curling around Daryl's hip in a death grip.

Daryl answered the request of her greedy body, increasing his pace. Slowly, she began to lose control. He had to be careful not to lose it too quickly, so damn arousing was the image of Carol's body desperately writing beneath him, nearly hovering off the bed. She seemed to be close, but not nearly as close as he was.

Again, Daryl leaned down to her, his tongue wandering over a taut nipple, her leg still perched on his shoulder. He felt her tremble and gasp as his hand moved between their bodies, his hips maintaining the torturous pace, pressing her nub against his cock as he pushed her towards her peak.

His warm breath ghosted over her ear before dropping a kiss below it. "Close yer eyes an' focus on what ya feel. Feel it, Carol," he could barely manage to get out. Her eyes fell closed and a moment later he felt her shiver beneath him as her moans flooded his ears like the sweetest melody. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck as the electrifying waves of pleasure made a current through her body. It was all he needed, letting go as he held her to him, her warm spasming walls hugging him perfectly, sending him into an endless nirvana, twitching and trembling in sync with her.

Tasting the salt on his skin, Carol clung to him as she panted against his throat. She pressed herself closer - if that were even possible - as she desperately tried to still the trembling in her limbs. The aftermath of this warm yet strange feeling still raged in waves through her entire being.

His body, too, still twitched from the sensations which had just electrified every cell in his body. Slowly, Daryl relaxed - just as she did - and the overwhelming heat gave way to a soothing lethargy. When they'd finally nestled within the other's embrace, he dared to look at her, his heart beginning to slow and his breaths somewhere close to normal. "What the hell was that?" he asked in awe, the small smile on his lips saying it all.

"Uhm, I think that was … _us_ ," Carol said and loosened her grip on him, taking his face in both hands before her grinning lips found his for a sweet kiss.

With one last longing look, he pulled out of her cautiously, already missing her warmth. There was nothing in the world Daryl wanted more than to remain wrapped up in her and fall asleep with the woman he loved, but his body protested.

Also, the second round had left its marks - which he'd eventually get used to - but damn, it was what he wanted with her. "I think this time we're gonna need to clean up … uhm, y'know? Ya wanna go to the bathroom first?" he asked, his face heating.

"There are tissues on the nightstand … uhm, would you pass me some? You can go first if you like," she whispered timidly.

"I can wait, I don't mind," Daryl protested.

"No, it's alright ... I'm not running away," she grinned mischievously.

Daryl shyly handed Carol the tissues before he reluctantly got out of the bed. Why was it so hard just to move a few steps away from her? Now, he would get up and walk around - naked as the day he'd been born - through Carol's apartment, and a familiar feeling of unease grew inside him. Never had he been in a situation like this. Never had he walked around naked in front of someone. He couldn't even remember if he'd been so carefree as a child. But Carol wasn't just anyone, and he shouldn't be ashamed … not with her.

Carol eyed him from top to toe, uncertainly twisting and turning the tissue box in her hands. "You're so beautiful, Daryl. I know that must sound pretty awkward, but you are," she murmured shyly.

Instead of going to the door, he moved to the edge of the bed and knelt down, reaching for his woman for another kiss, seeking their closeness once more. "I want this with ya over an' over again … for a long time. This an' so much more," he breathed against her mouth, her lips parting for him.

"I want that too … with you," she replied without thinking. She shouldn't be thinking and hesitating about what they were anymore. For too long Carol had hidden what she felt for him, too unsure if he would feel the same way. Now that she knew it, she could lay her fears to rest.

"I'll be right back, yeah."

"It's just the bathroom, not a world tour and you won't get lost," she grinned as her azures sparkled with so much affection.

"I know where I belong," he replied frankly.

"But I guess you can go to the bathroom alone. You don't have to take me everywhere," she giggled slightly. "I'll still be here when you come back."

Daryl stole another kiss from her before he walked to the door and she gave him another small grin before he finally made it out of the bedroom.

The man in the mirror looked so different. The lines on his face appeared softer and although Daryl felt completely exhausted, he looked relaxed. His eyes moved over his reflection and for the first time he felt as though he was seeing himself for the first time. The mask had fallen, just like all his clothes and despite everything - or maybe because - he was still with her and she was still there for him. Everything he'd tried to hide for years - out of fear of rejection, ridicule or scorn - lay open now. The healed wounds on his body which Carol had caressed were nothing compared to the wounds which she'd healed on his soul. She had accepted him the way he had accepted her, and he could finally allow himself to savor the feeling which he hadn't known existed until her.

He showered quickly, his past washing away down the drain, leaving nothing but a bright future there for him and his woman. With her, all things were possible.

Lost in thought, Daryl left the bathroom, leaving the door cracked behind him and headed down the hall, returning to the bedroom at the other end of the apartment. A small sliver of white caught his eye, drawing his gaze to the sideboard where an envelope innocently rested, looking different than all the others before.

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **Thanks for reading! It means a lot to me!**

 **Kisses for Charlotte Ashmore, who is always there for me! You are the best! *Hugs***


	36. Chapter 36 - A Silent Misunderstanding

**Thank you so much for your lovely feedback!**

 **OOO**

He'd hoped his mind would have attained some clarity to his thoughts, but the closer the bike roared in the direction of Daryl's apartment, the worse he felt. The cold whipping wind chapping his face and threatening to turn the tear tracks on his cheeks to ice, his heart beating wildly … he felt none of it, numb with pain. _Run!_ a one-word litany screaming through his mind as he throttled up, the bike darting dangerously through traffic, needing the burst of speed to aid him in his flight.

Daryl had run - literally run - in an attempt to escape the sound of his breaking heart, to flee the turmoil and conflict Carol had caused with her neatly written words. He wished he could have burned the letter to ash, just as her words would forever be scorched into his ragged soul. He'd run, the need to get away riding him hard, unable to ask Carol for the answers he'd so desperately needed, to clear away the confusion plaguing him. He'd been so sure they'd been on the right path to a bright future, but it had only been a beautiful illusion.

In the short time he'd been in the bathroom, he'd missed her terribly, and had wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and cuddle up to her warm body again, but on the way back to the bedroom, there had been that wretched envelope placed in its usual spot on the sideboard. It wasn't a surprise, as she'd been expecting their normal appointment, but instead of a _See You,_ the words _Thank You for Everything_ had been written on it. It had looked like a farewell letter, and that's exactly what it had been. A small piece of stationary, carefully folded and tucked between the dollar bills. It had sent a tremor through his body he wondered if he'd ever shake. Had he been so wrong? Should he trust his feelings … or the proof in black and white written in her own elegant hand?

Daryl had dropped the paper back onto the sideboard as if it had been poisonous and had taken a stumbling step backward, his back colliding with the wall. He'd covered his mouth with a trembling hand, hoping the sound of his pained breaths wouldn't carry down the hall. Turning his head, he'd stared at the door to her bedroom, the door still slightly ajar as he'd left it. He'd forced himself to walk the short distance, wondering at the silence until his tortured gaze had found her sleeping form on the bed.

Carol had almost completely disappeared amongst the countless pillows and oversized blanket, so that all Daryl could see had been her silver curls and closed eyes. She'd looked so peaceful and relaxed, her breathing calm and even. As if she hadn't a care in the world.

He'd wanted to scream, to beg her for the explanation he'd so desperately needed, but he'd found himself frozen in place, mired in misery and heartbreak. She'd slept peacefully as his questions had burned a hole in his chest. The words had lodged in his throat as he'd stood there - rooted to the floor - unable to move his quaking limbs.

There were a few things at which Daryl excelled, and he'd drawn on his knowledge on more than one occasion to save himself from a sticky situation. From an early age, he had - out of necessity - developed the ability to be silent and observant, able to sneak out unnoticed. Whenever the situation had required when he had been a kid, he had been able to sneak away quietly, becoming nearly invisible.

Daryl had gathered his clothes with slow careful movements and allowed his gaze to sweep over her once more - one last time - before he'd left the bedroom, the beat of his heart loud in his ears. He'd cautiously closed the door behind him and dressed quickly in the hallway. When she woke, he would be gone … just as she'd wanted. A memory. And for him … desolation and pain a constant companion as he dreamed of what could have been.

OOO

Carol pried open her sleep-heavy eyes, trying to pinpoint the sound which had dragged her from slumber. She inwardly cursed, not having wanted to lose a moment with Daryl to sleep. Apparently, her body had had other plans. Still drowsy, she heard the sound for a second time and she bolted upright in bed when she realized what it was. A door. Not just any door, but her apartment door.

Now wide awake, she stared at her bedroom door in shock as her breath heaved from her in panicked gasps. Her wide eyes frantically searched the bedroom floor, looking for his clothes, but they were gone. No further proof was needed to assure her of what had just happened. He'd left. He'd left her apartment … left her.

Adrenaline rushed through her veins, her body afire as she bolted out of bed, grabbing her nightgown and pulling it over her head as she rushed from the room. Her feet pounded the floor as she ran to the door. All she could hear was the sound of his fading footsteps and then the front door closing with a click. Hurrying, she slammed the apartment door shut again and ran to the kitchen window which faced the street. It would be the only opportunity she had to stop him from leaving.

But when Carol stood there at the open window to call for him - the chilly air cooling her seething body - her tears won the fight. Emotion lodged in her throat, restricting the sound of her fervent plea as she watched his figure cut through the darkness as if someone were chasing him. Between her sobs and tears, only a few weak words escaped her lips. "Daryl!" she cried. "Daryl, come back … please!" He either didn't care or didn't notice the silhouette of the weeping woman in the third-floor window as he kept on his course and swung himself onto the bike, disappearing into the night. Carol stood at the window until the sound of the engine died away.

Defeated, she closed the window with trembling hands, shaking her head in denial. It wasn't true … it couldn't be! What had happened? How could the man - who had found it so hard to even leave the bed to visit the bathroom - suddenly be gone? None of this made sense!

Standing helplessly in the kitchen as tears coursed silently over her cheeks, she leaned against the wall and slid her quaking body slowly down to the cold tiled floor. Her tears refused to stop flowing as she stared off into nothingness, her arms raising to wrap around her bent knees, hugging them to her chest as she desperately tried to hold herself together.

Carol had tasted joy, the first of her life. Hope that someone could love her - just as she had loved him - had brought her untold happiness. Perhaps she'd wanted too much, asked for too much … none of which she'd deserved. The last shred of her hope died inside her, there on the day which should have been one of the happiest of her life. Maybe she should never have allowed herself to feel it at all, because in the end, she was simply not fated to anything but heartache and misery. Never would she be able to trust anyone again - lesson learned - and so she would now somehow try to piece herself together and make it look as if she were living - functioning - while inwardly she would die a little more each day.

At some point, when the dawn shone its light through the window, Carol stood up as if in a trance and completely lost in thought, she slowly wandered through her apartment. The open bedroom door - through which she saw the unmade bed - seemed to grin at her maliciously and Carol swallowed. It was all she had left of him, the indentation of his head on his pillow and the lingering scent of him which had always brought her untold comfort. Her stomach contracted painfully as she stood in the doorway staring at the bed, a cold shiver running the length of her spine.

She closed the door, unable to bear the sight of her bed any longer, pacing the carpeted runner in her hallway as she tried to muddle through her thoughts. Her eyes fell upon the sideboard, and she froze, having forgotten about the envelope. It lay open, the money half in, half spread on the surface, and the small letter lay in the middle of it, unfolded … read.

The letter had been Carol's back-up, a second parachute if she hadn't found the courage to talk to him. The plan had been - if she hadn't had the heart to say it - to say goodbye to Daryl as always and to have him find the letter in the envelope she'd left out for him on the sideboard as usual. If she had spoken to him, she would have removed the letter. If not, the letter would have said what her voice could not.

When Carol had made this decision, she'd wanted to protect herself from more pain. What they'd shared - their business arrangement - couldn't go on any longer. But when her trembling fingers reached for the already worn looking letter, and she read the lines again, Carol realized the message wasn't as clear as she'd thought when she'd written it. What she had tried to explain, Daryl could have interpreted much differently.

 _Dear Daryl,_

 _If you are reading this, I wasn't strong enough to talk to you._

 _I really enjoyed the time I spent with you, but this is our last appointment. We won't meet like this any longer, because I just can't take it anymore. It started as a business relationship and I lost control over it. It was never planned that anyone would get hurt._

 _You've done your best, you always have, and I know how hard you try, but it's not enough. Because no matter how hard you try, there's something you just can't give me and without it, it just will not work for me. Maybe a painful ending may be better than endless pain._

 _Thank you for everything you have done for me. I will never forget the time we spent together._

 _Carol_

Everything had turned out differently than she'd expected. All the kisses and revelations, his affection which she had felt clearly - had changed everything. When he'd come through her door that evening, the cards had been reshuffled and fate had dealt them a new hand.

Carol had wanted to end it. She had been certain he didn't feel for her what she felt for him. All the kisses he hadn't given her, all the times he'd taken her money had diminished Carol's hope that it could be more than a business relationship to him. She hadn't wanted to get hurt anymore and had therefore sought to end it. Her own words burned in her head with new and painful meaning. _Don't meet any longer … It's not enough … What you can't give me …_

He'd misinterpreted the letter and run away. It was her fault.

 _"_ _You're so stupid and clumsy, you destroy everything you touch, you stupid bitch!"_ Carol heard Ed's words in her head. He had said it when the plates had slipped out of her hand and the car had broken down, just as the day baby Sophia had been so sick with colic she hadn't been able to stop crying. _"You can't do anything right! You're useless! She's crying because of you! It's your fault, you useless piece of shit!"_

Carol had never been able to do anything right. She hadn't been able to calm her crying child any more easily than she had been able to save her from dying. The memories of the past now mingled with the new experiences, the new pain and new allegations. Ed had been right. Carol broke everything she touched … always.

OOO

The cold emptiness of his apartment greeted Daryl as he let himself in and tossed his keys on the little table next to the door, as did the silence. The space he'd made his own, familiar, comfortable, now just heightened his sense of loneliness.

He dragged himself to the shower, turning the water as hot as it would go, trying to burn the feeling of Carol's touch from his reddening skin. His heart thundered, pushing the blood through his veins at an alarming rate as he fought to catch his breath … until he couldn't hold back the tears another second. Daryl braced his hands against the tiles and dipped his chin towards his chest in defeat, the scalding water pouring over his head. _How could she just walk away from what we had? How could I have been so wrong?_

When the water turned cold, he forced himself out and pulled on a pair of joggers, seeking out the worn sofa in his dark living room. The curtains were drawn, a precaution for the next morning, and with a bottle of bourbon in hand, Daryl decided to play a drinking game with himself in an effort to forget, needing an escape from the pain clawing a hole in the center of his chest.

Whenever he remembered how his name had tumbled from Carol's lips, he would take a drink. Hours later, however, the memories began to take on a different meaning than when he'd started drinking. Instead of anger whenever she said his name, a warm feeling rose inside him … sometimes proud, sometimes a little embarrassed, and at times frightened of how beautiful her voice had sounded when she'd purred his ugly redneck name. The cadence of her voice as his name had slipped from her lips had sounded supportive … consoling … caring … warming, and sometimes sweet … teasing … _loving_ and full of affection.

 _Thank you, Daryl … Daryl? Look at me. Are you okay? … Daryl ... Take me home … Can you love, Daryl? … The little boy ... is that you, Daryl? … No ... it's not your fault, Daryl ... it's not … You're so beautiful, Daryl … I like that ... you feel ... you feel so good, Daryl …_

His throat burned with the tears he refused to shed, and his body physically ached for what he couldn't have as his thoughts became more and more blurred. Yet her words continued to plague him, his cruel mind refusing to let her go. The bottle would most likely be empty before the night was done, but his head would be filled with the woman he loved.

OOO

By the time Sunday morning rolled around, Carol felt like a week had passed. She'd cleaned her apartment from top to bottom, constantly battling again and again with her tears. Daryl had gone, and she knew he wouldn't be coming back. The helplessness of the situation burned like acid in her gut. It wasn't as if she could just call him. And if she could … what would she tell him? What _could_ she possibly say to make him understand?

She'd ignored the phone and finally turned the ringer down so the sound wouldn't be so terribly grating on her frayed nerves. She'd missed one call from Andrea, and a few from Tobin. _God, when would that idiot finally get the message?_

As she sat down on her sofa again - hugging the cushions to her chest as she stared at the TV without really watching - the phone rang again. However, this time it was Michonne. She couldn't ignore her best friend, not the way Michonne worried when Carol didn't answer. Old fears sometimes died hard.

"Hey, 'Chonne," she sighed, knowing her friend would notice right away something was wrong.

"Hey … Carol?" Michonne questioned, suspicion heavy in her voice. As much as they'd been through together, it was easy to pick up on the false cheerfulness Carol tried to project.

"What's up?" Carol tried to ask as calmly as possible. She didn't want Michonne to worry. _Nice try!_

Michonne cleared her throat. "Hmm, I was going to ask you the same thing," she drawled in a dry tone. "Have you talked to him? What's going on? What happened?"

The next thing Michonne knew, Carol's wail of despair caused her to pull the phone away from her ear. Her friend's sobs were heart-wrenching as she attempted to share the events of the past evening. "I'll be right there, sweetie … I'm leaving right now!"

She didn't even attempt an explanation for her confused husband as she grabbed her purse and raced out the door.

OOO

"Soup?" Carol asked in confusion, arching a brow.

"I had a yen for soup yesterday and you know I can't make it but by the gallon. I was pulling out of the driveway when I remembered you never eat when you're upset, so I ran back in to grab a container for you."

"Thank you."

"Are you sleeping on the couch?" Michonne asked in alarm as she entered the living room and got a look at the sofa where a mess of blankets and pillows were scattered.

"Sleep? What's that?" Carol snorted, straightening the mess so she could sit down. She'd only entered the bedroom to get fresh clothes out of the closet and later she'd vacuumed the carpet and cleaned the windows, but she hadn't touched the bed. She couldn't even bear to look at it. She certainly couldn't have slept in it. So far, she hadn't been able to sleep on the sofa either, but at least she'd tried. Her mind was too consumed with thoughts of Daryl to find rest in slumber.

"You look like shit. Did you even take a shower?" Although Michonne didn't know what had happened, she was worried, knowing it had something to do with Daryl. Still, she didn't want to make Carol feel how worried she really was.

Carol sighed. "Three yesterday ... but not today, yet. I just look as _good_ as I feel, I think. Thanks for the compliment, darling."

Michonne gave her a sympathetic smile and hugged her. "Tell me what happened. I'm here for you!"

The two women sat on Carol's sofa and while her best friend cried and talked, Michonne forced her to eat some of the soup. She comforted Carol as she told her everything, and caressingly stroked her shoulder or hugged her from time to time. But despite all the sympathy, Michonne couldn't help but shake her head and break her silence at some point.

"Carol, we talked about this … what you were going to say to him. Why did you write that stupid letter? Damn it, why didn't you talk to him!?"

"There was no time ... and then I just forgot about the letter ... I -" Carol stammered.

Michonne was shocked. "I told you he's in love with you, right? I saw it ... felt it. Why didn't you believe me?"

"I thought -"

"Your asshole ex-husband is still in your head," Michonne interrupted her. "Have you forgotten everything you and Marie have discussed in your sessions?"

"I – I didn't think he could love me," Carol murmured, brushing another tear from her cheek as she reached for a tissue.

"He does, Carol, and that's why he left!" Michonne gathered her best friend - who burst into another bout of tears at those words - into her arms. She wanted to help her, but how? They needed a plan. Something had to be done about this mess. This couldn't be the end.

"And what if he left because his mission was done, and he just didn't want to see me again?" The doubts were back stronger than ever as she met Michonne's knowing gaze.

"Oh, honey, how can you even think that? He kissed you - going against one of his rules - and he told you his secrets, damnit! _And_ you said he left the money on the sideboard. He might not have said the words, but he _showed_ you how much he loves you … and you broke his heart!" Michonne groaned.

Carol nodded, defeated. "I broke everything."

"Right, and that's why you're going to fix this! Now where do we start?"

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **My beta called the chapter 'The Angst Fest' and I think she wanted to tie me to a chair so I could fix it as fast as possible! For the first time, I was glad she doesn't live next door! (Darling, I still love you and you're an awesome beta and person! Please forgive me!)**

 **Gawd, it's not good if your beta is mad at you ... how about you?**

 **I will fix this, I promise!**


	37. Chapter 37 - Fighting for Him

Michonne bounced a little on the sofa cushion, wrinkling her nose. "I couldn't sleep on this couch either. The bed is much more comfortable, Carol," she tried to convince her friend. "I know because I helped you pick out that bed, remember?"

"I just can't, I -" Carol shook her head.

"Come on, honey … We'll change the sheets and straighten up a bit. Maybe it'll be easier then," Michonne cajoled gently, mindful of the heartache her friend was suffering.

"No! Please, 'Chonne, I'll do it later," Carol whined, trying to get Michonne to drop the subject as the woman led them into Carol's bedroom.

"Then I'll do it," Michonne said firmly as she dropped Carols hand and turned towards the bed.

"'Chonne, please don't … it's just … _NO!"_ Carol stammered. The bed had somehow become a kind of memorial to her lost love. The sight of it hurt her to the very depths of her ragged soul, but she couldn't just change the sheets and obliterate the evidence of the one perfect night she'd spent in Daryl's arms. She just couldn't let go so easily. The thought of her best friend knowing exactly what had happened in that bed, of her wanting to set it to rights herself, was embarrassing, but it wouldn't change her mind.

Michonne gave Carol a knowing look before she pulled her into a hug. "I know you finally had sex in this wonderful bed and changing the sheets will reveal nothing I haven't seen before. Your apartment is so clean, it looks like a picture in a catalog, but the bed … " She released Carol and waved a hand towards the bed. "I know you, Carol, and this has to be driving you a little crazy. You can't do it, you can't let go … so let me do it for you."

Carol covered her face with her hands in shame.

"Go take a shower and I'll take care of it. When you come back refreshed, we'll have a coffee and talk about what we can do, ok?"

Her best friend just wanted to help her, Carol knew, and she had no defense against such love and devotion, so she nodded hesitantly in defeat, shame coloring her cheeks, and dragged herself off to the bathroom.

OOO

"So, how many times have you tried to call him since that night?" Michonne asked gently as they sat around Carol's kitchen table sipping coffee.

Carol huffed a bitter laugh, figuring it was better than crying into her cup. "I don't even have his phone number. I don't have that, or know where he lives … I have _nothing_ , 'Chonne. And even if I did, I don't think he would talk to me."

"I beg your pardon? You don't have his number?!" Michonne shrieked in horror, her eyes blowing wide. _What the everloving hell?!_

Carol sighed dejectedly, shaking her head. "It was one of the rules. Do _not_ exchange private contact information. All inquiries were to go through the agency."

"Gawd, you two are so … so … UGH!" Instead of a word, an angry, disgusted sound escaped Michonne's throat. She just couldn't believe what Carol was telling her. She pursed her lips and arched a dubious brow. "Right … because you guys have been so _good_ at following the rules."

For this Michonne earned a shit look from her friend.

"So, tomorrow, call the agency and ask for a new meeting," Michonne suggested.

"The letter said we won't meet any longer, so -" Carol tried to explain.

"If you ask for a new appointment, Daryl will know it was nonsense. Then when you two see each other, you can finally tell him how you feel and clear up this misunderstanding."

"Do you really think it's going to be so easy?" Carol deadpanned. She had no hope he'd agree to another meeting. He would continue doing his job, but he certainly wouldn't want to meet with _her_ again. Carol felt her stomach churn at the thought. Even before they'd had sex, she'd had a hard time coping with the knowledge that Daryl slept with other women, but now it was simply unbearable.

"Don't you want to see him again?" Michonne eventually asked when she'd allowed Carol to stew in her thoughts for a while.

"Of course, I want to see him again, but -" Carol whispered.

"No buts! Your mother probably taught you boys should be the ones fighting for the girls, conquering hearts and all that jazz, but, honey, it's time to rethink those old rules. It's time to go after what _you_ want. Would you fight for him?"

"Yes," Carol nodded without the slightest hesitation, "I would." Of course, she would fight for the man she loved. It wasn't her pride which had left her wringing her hands and lamenting her mistakes, but fear of rejection. But Michonne was right. All this time, she'd only thought of herself and _her_ pain. Thinking back over her time with him, she realized how often he'd had to fight to earn her trust, her affection, all of which she had considered as part of the business relationship. She rubbed a hand over the ache in the center of her chest. Everything he'd done had been _real._ Now it was Carol's turn.

"Gawd, Rick would go bat-shit crazy if he knew all this," Michonne sighed, grinning sheepishly.

"It's not Daryl's fault, it's mine!" Carol admitted again. If someone deserved a good kick in the ass, it was her.

"You're right!" Michonne snickered. "Rick would be really pissed at you, give you a hard time, and probably make you sit through one of his condescending lectures. But Daryl … he'd probably take him out for a beer. He said recently he thought Daryl was an ok guy and he just needed to get used to him," she said with a shrug.

"He did _not_ say that!" Carol gaped at her, unable to believe it.

"Would I ever lie to you, honey? He did!"

OOO

It was Monday morning and Daryl was exhausted. The hangover still crawled maliciously through his entire body, compounding everything to make him feel like absolute shit after the worst weekend he'd ever had. Unable to sleep anyway, he'd driven to work, hoping to lose himself in mindless tasks, at least for a little while. Yet he knew it was futile when he walked into the shop to find Dwight already there. _Fuckkkk!_

"Damn, Dixon, what're you doing here so early?" the man asked, his voice grating on Daryl's already frayed nerves.

 _Does he have a death wish or somethin'? Does the idiot want to lose the other half of his face this morning?_ "Shut the fuck up, asshole, an' lemme work in peace," Daryl snarled as he reached for a pair of pliers.

Dwight just stood there, trying to remain calm as he stared at his co-worker. Dixon's mood was worse than usual. Dwight hadn't realized that was even possible. "No idea who pissed in your cornflakes, but I'm not to blame for your pissy mood, so leave me out of it. And don't take it out on the cars either!"

Daryl tightened his grip on the pliers, his knuckles ghostly white, and jumped at Dwight, stopping just an inch away. His face twisted into a mask of rage as he held the pliers beneath his co-worker's nose. "Get outta my sight or you'll regret it!"

Eyes wide as saucers, Dwight jerked back, staring at the tool Daryl held. The man looked broken. "I'm sorry, man," was all he could manage to say.

 _What the hell was up with Dixon? It almost seems like …_ Dwight remembered the time he'd wanted to beat the hell out of everything and everyone. The slightest wrong word had set him off, his temper volatile because of … _Sherry. Is Dixon suffering from heartbreak? Nah. Was he even capable of such a human emotion?_

Daryl huffed and stepped back. "Pfft! Don't let it happen again. Jus' leave me the hell alone and lemme work."

"That's not what I'm sorry for." Dwight's piercing eyes bored deeply into his.

Daryl shot him a side-eyed look, his teeth still clenched in anger, wondering what Dwight was on about, but not having the patience for whatever game he might be playing.

"Try to distract yourself … and for fuck's sake, don't drink. Everything eventually comes back when you sober up, and it's worse because then you have a raging migraine to go with it. Just try to survive it somehow," Dwight whispered cautiously.

At first, Daryl didn't know how to respond as the anger slowly drained from his features, replaced by confusion and a hint of agreement he tried desperately to hide. "I don't know what yer talkin' about," he replied quietly, averting his gaze.

"I think you know exactly what I mean," Dwight said calmly. "Come on, let's start … and if you need a break or want to call it a day, let me know."

OOO

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Mrs. Peletier but Daryl isn't available at the moment. Call me tomorrow; maybe I'll know more then …"_

 _"_ _Unfortunately, he's still not available, but I will contact you as soon as I know more …"_

 _"_ _I'm really sorry to disappoint you again, Mrs. Peletier, but it seems Daryl is still unavailable. I'll contact you, I promise …"_

 _"_ _If you want, Mrs. Peletier, you can come back to my office and choose from my other escorts. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to arrange another meeting between you and Mr. Dixon. I'm really sorry …"_

OOO

"I can't do that! What the hell would I even say?" Tara asked, horrified.

"Tara … sweetie, I need to know if Daryl is unavailable only to me. Please!" Carol tried desperately to persuade her younger friend. It had been bad enough for her to tell her everything, but she needed to be certain. She couldn't keep this up, the wondering, the hopelessness.

"Why can't _you_ do that?" Tara asked, sending an accusing look Michonne's way.

"I would, but Rhee knows my voice. I told you I was the one who set up his office," Michonne replied.

The three women sat in the café, brooding over a new plan as they tried to find inspiration in a ton of cake and ice cream. Carol had been trying to arrange a new meeting with Daryl for nearly a week - all in vain - hoping Mr. Rhee wouldn't be able to smell her desperation through the phone.

"And if Daryl is available for … _me?_ Sorry, Carol!" Tara gave her friend a compassionate look, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "But what should I do, if he's available and then I have to make an appointment with him? What do I do then?" She asked uncertainly, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole. This whole scenario was just bad, bad, bad! It would prove the man Carol loved was consciously avoiding her and it made Tara immediately sorry for what she'd said. But, seriously, what was she supposed to do?!

"If that happens, you will order him to a hotel … but instead of you, he'll meet Carol there," Michonne grinned triumphantly, meeting Carol's sad eyes. There was no way this wasn't going to work, she was sure.

Carol shook her head in resignation. "No! If he doesn't want to see me, we shouldn't force him."

"But if this is your only chance to talk to him, what do you have to lose?" Michonne asked, refusing to let her friend give up.

"Carol?" Tara softly addressed her friend. "Tell me and I'll do it!"

A silent tear clung to Carol's lashes. Despite the infinite pain it would cause, she had to know if he just didn't want to see _her_ anymore. If a trick was needed in order to meet him again, she would do it. Perhaps she needed another meeting with Daryl to find closure … to see there really was no hope for them. But _if_ she could just talk to him, to explain … She batted the tear away which had finally dropped onto her cheek and nodded as Tara stroked her shoulder comfortingly before the woman reached for her cell phone. Michonne and Carol sat staring at her, tensed with expectation.

"Yeah, uhm … hello! My name is, uhm Miller. I want to ... yes, I would like to make an appointment with one of your ..."

The man on the other end of the line was talking, but unfortunately, neither Michonne nor Carol could understand a word he was saying, despite how close they leaned near Tara who sat between them.

"So, uhm … someone was recommended to me. His name is ... his name is Daryl. Could you arrange a meeting?" Tara continued shyly. What the hell was she even doing right now? _You're doing this for Carol! You're doing this for Carol!_ she chanted silently like a mantra, desperately trying to calm down.

Again, the man spoke while the three women exchanged excited looks. "Oh, ok ... um, yes ... so, I guess I have to think about that. Yes, I will contact you. Thank you! Bye!"

Tara hung up the phone, and for a moment blissful silence reigned as she met Carol's wide eyes. She seemed to be trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation, blurting out, "Now, tell me! Please, Tara!"

"Not available!" Tara answered and pursed her lips in perplexity.

Carol took a deep breath and didn't know if she should be relieved or disappointed.

OOO

Somehow, Daryl managed to get through the week, Dwight doing his best to steer clear of the angry redneck. He was still unsympathetic to him, but Dwight wasn't as bad as Daryl knew he could be. They would never be best friends, but Daryl accepted whatever help the man offered him and didn't think too hard about the reasoning behind it. The guy had his back, and Daryl really needed it right now. He was grateful that apart from a few tire changes and minor repairs, there hadn't been much work to do in the shop. Daryl did his job, took his scheduled breaks and called it a day right on time to clock out, taking comfort in the knowledge his boss was still pleased with his performance. It set his mind at ease because Dale firing him would be the last straw, and Daryl's life was already hard enough.

Reluctantly, Daryl accepted Dwight's advice and tried to distract himself from his misery, though nothing could banish his thoughts of Carol for more than a few minutes. Despite the pain she'd caused him, he missed her terribly. His body and soul demanded her. _Shit, that's prob'ly how junkies feel. Ya know the stuff kills ya, an' still ya can't stop. Instead, ya just wait - even though you're half dead - for the next fix,_ Daryl mused.

After work, he would often ride for hours with no destination and no plan, just to end up in Carol's neighborhood. Once, he'd even come close to her apartment just to see if her light was on, wondering briefly whether he should just ring her bell, standing out by the security light pole like a damned stalker. _She don't wanna see ya, boy! She don't want t' have nothin' t' do with a piece o' shit like y' are!_ His father's voice had echoed in his head.

He cursed, the possible and impossible answers tripping through his mind interrupted by the ringing phone. _Shit!_ Daryl had forgotten to turn if off again. The last few days his cell phone had been switched off, too annoyed to deal with incoming calls and messages. He hated always being available, which is why he had opted for the cell instead of a landline, happy to turn it off when he wasn't working. This way he could switch it off and simply check later. Besides, it wasn't as if he liked to talk on the phone, and even if he did, who would he talk to?

Daryl had only turned it on twice in the past week, only to find a few missed calls from Merle and Glenn, along with messages when he couldn't be reached. Again, Glenn had called trying to offer him work, and again, his call would go unanswered. He didn't even read the messages. Daryl growled in irritation as he turned the cell off and slammed it down on the nightstand. _Ya can stop sellin' my ass, Rhee! I'm out!_

OOO

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Peletier … uhm, unfortunately, I have no good news for you. Daryl is still unavailable," Glenn Rhee said nervously. For a week he'd tried to call Daryl, only to have his calls and texts left unanswered. Frankly, he was losing patience with his employee. On the other hand, he was also growing concerned for Daryl. Had he had an accident? Was he ok? However, if the reason for his unavailability wasn't due to accident or illness, he was afraid he'd have to fire Daryl. He simply couldn't allow such unreliability in his company. He had a reputation to uphold.

Carol was at a loss. It had been difficult enough not to call Glenn Rhee over the weekend, but now it was Monday, and there was still no trace of Daryl … after more than a week! She was a desperate mess of emotions. She wouldn't even allow herself to think he'd been injured in some way. She would surely lose it then.

"Mrs. Peletier? Are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm here. Yes, that's a pity Daryl isn't available," she replied sadly. Should she just tell Mr. Rhee about what had happened and ask him for Daryl's phone number? Perhaps he would understand and give her his contact information. But then she remembered the initial meeting with Glenn and how strictly he'd insisted on his rules. If she asked him, and he refused, she might upset him and cause Daryl to lose his job.

"Have you ever thought about meeting another escort, Mrs. Peletier? I have really nice men to offer." Glenn suggested. Somehow, he had to keep his customers on the line.

She didn't want another man, damnit! Not for the wide world. "Yeah, that might be a good idea," she said suddenly, startled by the words coming out of her mouth. However, the more she thought about it, the more that fragile spark of hope in her chest blazed to life. "What about Daryl's brother? Would he be available?"

"Merle Dixon? Uhm … well … Merle Dixon is an interesting choice, but if you think he's like his younger brother, I'll have to disappoint you, Mrs. Peletier. The two are … uhm, hard to explain … very dissimilar brothers, you know."

"Perhaps a little change wouldn't be so bad." Carol grimaced at the seductive tone of her voice, disgusted with herself and ever so glad Mr. Rhee couldn't see her over the phone. But she had to make him think she was intrigued with the prospect of meeting with Merle.

"So, should I arrange an appointment with Mr. Dixon … Merle Dixon?"

"Yes, please," Carol answered, once again glad she hadn't asked Glenn directly for Daryl's number. Otherwise, the agency director wouldn't be willing to arrange an appointment between her and Daryl's brother. She hung up the phone and smiled, the first genuine smile she could remember since everything had fallen apart. Merle Dixon might be her only hope. She only prayed she could go through with this. In some way it felt as if she was betraying Daryl, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

Yes, maybe it's a filler chapter, but that's just how they feel right now with the uncertainty of what the future holds. Some stuff and thangs have to happen before they meet again. Maybe the next chapter will bring more solution. ;)

Thanks for reading and reviewing! :)

I send a lot of love, kisses and hugs to CharlotteAshmore! Get well soon sweetie! Take care of yourself! *hugs*


	38. Chapter 38 - Unexpected Encounters

Carol stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, disgusted by what she saw, the tell-tale marks of her misery etched into her skin in the form of barely visible lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She'd impatiently been awaiting this day. Glenn had been able to schedule an appointment for her to meet with Merle Dixon a mere two days after her last call to him, but the waiting was making her crazy. She couldn't even call the agency boss anymore to ask about Daryl. It had almost become habit to call there every day, and she'd caught herself more than once reaching for the phone. Now she could only hope Merle would have the answers she sought. Her biggest concern was if Daryl was okay.

Carol groaned, finishing up her make-up - a miserable attempt to cover the dark circles under her eyes - as the doorbell rang. At least, he was on time, she mused, hurrying to the door. She smoothed a hand over her top, willing away the nerves threatening to choke her.

A rough-looking man greeted her with a big grin and though Carol could barely remember the photo, she had somehow expected something different. _This is Daryl's brother?_

"Hello," she murmured timidly. "Come in." She blushed beneath his curious perusal, his gaze sweeping her from top to toe as he slowly and deliberately entered the apartment. He stopped mere inches from her, apparently waiting for a sign from her as one sardonic brow lifted in askance.

"Hey there, Sugar; nice t' meet ya … I'm Merle," he drawled in a saccharine sweet voice. _So ya know what name you'll be moaning th' whole night, lil' mouse,_ he thought, his grin widening. New clients were always exciting for him. This one appeared to be a frustrated housewife, apparently too shy to confess her wants and needs to her significant other. Merle appreciated clients like these because they were always so _thankful._ This one was close to his age, and although he favored younger women, she was quite attractive. Enough to make his job easy.

Carol bit back a horrified giggle. _Sugar? Did he just call me Sugar? Oh, my gawd!_

"I'm Carol," she squeaked before clearing her throat and straightening her shoulders. She couldn't allow her nervousness to give him an advantage. This _wasn't_ Daryl. "I think we should sit, uhm … in the kitchen," she said, pointing down the hallway. For her, it seemed safer to hold this conversation at the kitchen table rather than the sofa. The man still had no idea of his true purpose there.

"Kitchen?" he asked in confusion and got a nod from her. "A'right, whatever ya want, darlin'."

Merle followed her to the kitchen, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb as he watched her pull cups from the cupboard with trembling hands. The little mouse was nervous, understandable with new clients, and a grin spread over his face ready to lighten the mood between them. His feet were silent on the tiles as he stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms about her waist just as she set the cups down on the table.

"You can take a seat –" The words died on her lips, a gasp taking their place as she found herself trapped between him and the tabletop. "Don't touch me, ok?" she whispered, hating the timidity so evident in her voice. She didn't want to scare him away before she could ask her questions, but she didn't want him to think she was a pushover, either.

"Do ya want me to fuck ya on th' kitchen table, honey?" she heard his harsh voice whisper in her ear and felt his breath on her skin as he was still not releasing his grip on her. It was the wrong voice, the wrong touch, the wrong everything. It wasn't Daryl, who instilled trust in her with his very presence, but rather a stranger who had her alarm bells ringing loudly, warning her of impending danger … even if there was none.

Merle didn't know what hit him, the next few moments a blur, her actions too rapid for him to do more than blink. With a quick, flowing move, she broke free of his grip, landing an elbow to his groin. Before he could reach for his aching crotch, she'd somehow slipped behind him and had his arms twisted at an odd angle at his back. He opened his mouth to protest, but that too proved fruitless as she slammed his upper body against the table. The cups jumped up a few inches only to come down with a clattering sound next to his head. _WHAT TH' FUCK, WOMAN!?_

"I said, Don't. Touch. Me!" she repeated, slightly out of breath as she still stood behind him holding his twisted arms behind his back in a steely grip.

"S'that some kinda upside-down fifty-shades shit?" Merle asked anxiously, sweat beading his forehead. He couldn't move a single inch, and it was making him rather nervous. "Whatever ya want, I'm in! But ya coulda told me this was whatcha wanted earlier."

"I'm going to let you go now, but you're going to park yourself at the table and keep your hands to yourself, you got me?" she asked calmly but firmly, a slight tremor remaining in her voice.

"Yeah, I do, I … I promise, but lemme go, lady!" he pleaded. He'd never expected a woman could hold him in such a tight grip, especially _this_ woman. But he suspected it was the way his arms were twisted, or her fast reaction … or both.

Carol released him and took a wary step back as Merle slowly straightened, rolling his shoulders until she heard them crack. His expression was still pained and a bit startled as he eyed her questioningly.

Carol side-eyed him as she averted her gaze shyly, moving to grab the coffee pot after she'd made sure he'd dropped down into a chair. She was a little embarrassed by what she'd done. Although the last self-defense class had been some time ago, she apparently still remembered a lot of what she'd learned. It had never been her intention to scare him, but his gentle embrace had just been too much for her. He'd ignored her request not to touch her, and she'd acted purely on instinct.

Merle saw her trembling hands rearrange the cups on the table before she poured the coffee and sat down too, on the other side of the table. Still in shock, he eyed her skeptically and swallowed hard. _What the hell is this woman up to?_

Clearing her throat, Carol sought his gaze, a small smile forming on her lips. She felt empowered because she'd been able to gain the upper hand in the situation, but in no way did she want something like that to happen again. "Most people underestimate me," she murmured, still smiling though her eyes were deadly serious. "Don't underestimate me, Mr. Dixon."

Merle couldn't help staring at her in disbelief as she calmly lifted her coffee cup and took a sip.

"Enjoy your coffee; it's pretty good," Carol said as she pointed to his cup.

 _What a psycho lady!_ "What th' hell do ya want from me?"

"I need your help ... and it has nothing to do with … with sex!" she made clear.

Merle's eyes went wide, still not having a damn clue about what she wanted.

Carol breathed out a shuddering sigh as she fought to gather her courage. "I need Daryl's phone number … his address or information as to where he works … something like that. I –"

Now Merle couldn't resist the broad grin forming on his lips as he finally understood what she wanted from him. This woman didn't want to have sex with him; she wanted to question him about Daryl, who obviously didn't want to be her callboy anymore. "Was my sweet baby brother yer lil' boytoy, cougar?"

As a reaction to his words, Carol felt a sharp pain in her chest, which was immediately mirrored in her expression. "It's not -"

"Sugar, listen t' me," he interrupted. Merle felt a tad bit sorry for the woman, but on the other hand, he was more than a little surprised by his brother's apparently remarkable skills in his job. Had the boy finally learned something? "It's our job. We tell ya how beautiful ya are, how good ya feel, and how great it is with ya, 'cause we need ya. We need ya t' need us, y'know?"

"No, it's -" Carol tried to explain.

"We tell ya what ya need to hear," he said softly, not wanting to hurt her. If Merle was good at anything, it was his ability to satisfy women and make them happy. After he was done with her, she'd never ask for Daryl again, he was sure. And by the way Merle had gotten _laid_ by her on the kitchen table mere moments ago, he was sure as hell this woman would be a great fuck. She had fire!

"NO! Let me explain! It's not like that, gawd!" Carol threw a hand over her face. Even though she knew he was wrong, the words hurt regardless. "He said it himself … the day he had your car. What we have … it's not like that … remember?"

"What?" Merle couldn't believe it, remembering the day when his brother had brought his car back to him far too late, his knickers in a knot when Merle had asked Daryl why he'd been so moody. "He was with ya?"

"Yes! I was standing next to him while he was on the phone with you."

"Don't mean nothin'," Merle protested, but somehow, he didn't quite believe it himself. He knew his brother better than anyone, and Daryl's behavior had definitely meant _something._

"We were at his mother's grave ... _your_ mother's grave," Carol admitted, hoping he would believe her if she told him details which she - as a normal client - just couldn't have known.

"Now I know yer lyin'," Merle shook his head in disbelief. "Daryl never visits her grave."

"I know, but he was there … with me. Her name was Emma, and I also know why she died and that your father … he punished Daryl for not being there when the house burned down. I know about the scars … I saw them." Carol's voice softened as tears began to roll over her cheeks. "He told me everything," she added desperately, praying Merle would believe her. The words continued to slip from her tongue in a torrent, wanting so much to prove to him she'd been more to Daryl than just a client. In that moment, she realized she should've already known how much she'd meant to him. How could she have been so blind?

The puzzled frown he wore deepened the lines in Merle's brow. As far as he knew, his brother had never been back to visit their mother's grave. How did this woman know all these things? It was inconceivable to Mere that Daryl had confided so much of his past to her. He wouldn't even talk to Merle. For a minute, he wondered if they were talking about the same person. Daryl - who in general - never spoke unless it was absolutely necessary? "So, ya weren't his client? I don't understand anythin' anymore!" he huffed indignantly.

"I was, but it _changed_... for me ... for him. I don't even know exactly when it happened, but it changed," she whispered softly, her watery blue eyes searching his for answers.

"Why ain't he here then, huh?" Merle asked irritably. If this Carol was really that close to his brother, she should at least have his phone number. For Merle, the whole issue made no sense at all.

"Because we never talked about … _this_ ... and then I made a mistake."

"What mistake? What did ya do?" he asked harshly.

Did this ruffian really want her to tell him everything? It was hard enough to talk about it at all. Should Carol actually unburden her heart to him? Did he even want to know all that? "I didn't think he could feel the same way I feel for him, so … I wrote a letter. I wanted to end it because I was so afraid of getting hurt. He … uhm … misunderstood the message and left.

"Show me!"

"What?"

"The letter, lady!" he barked, steadily losing patience with her.

Hesitantly, Carol got up and left the kitchen. She didn't want to show him the letter, but felt she had to. Would he blame her for everything, or would he finally help her?

Back in the kitchen, she handed the letter to him and took a deep breath. It couldn't get worse, could it? She was so hopeful to finally get in touch with Daryl and his brother might be her last chance. Even if she doubted they were even related - he was so different from her sweet Daryl - maybe he would find it in his heart to help them.

Resuming her seat at the table, Carol watched as his eyes moved rapidly over the paper, his mouth drawn in a thin line of displeasure, his brows knit. Suddenly throwing the letter on the table, he gave her an angry look. _He wouldn't be helping her,_ she thought, choking back a bitter sob.

"Do ya wanna know what our daddy always told us? He said we were useless ... worthless, good-for nothin' trash!" Merle spat.

And again, her heart broke for Daryl. She had known it ... sensed it ... and much worse, she knew exactly what it felt like being treated like this. Her tears wouldn't help her. She gasped, overwhelmed by all the pain and guilt she felt.

"An' that's exactly what he thinks he is right now … 'cause of this," Merle added, explaining as he looked at her contemptuously.

"I know," she whispered tentatively. "But I have to know if he's ok. Has something happened to him?"

What Merle saw in the eyes of this woman was a strange mixture of feelings he'd probably never seen before. She was desperate, and she was grieving, mourning for Daryl. And he saw something which looked like honest affection … love, even if Merle Dixon didn't really know what love was.

Dixons didn't love women, they fucked or beat them, or they were fucked by life and beaten by others. And as a Dixon, you didn't even know which pile of crap was the better fate. Something like love had never been in the cards for a Dixon.

If ever there was _love_ for anything, it was for drugs or alcohol. But Daryl had always been different. Daryl had never been one to dabble in vices, nor had he ever wanted to chase pussy. His brother had always been a riddle to him - too soft, sensitive - one he'd never had the patience or smarts to solve. It made Merle wonder if his baby brother might escape the cycle or if this lady had broken him and Daryl had finally learned his lesson that there really was no hope for a guy like him.

"I have no idea," Merle took a deep breath. "He doesn't answer his phone ... most of th' time it's off. An' when I tried t' call him yesterday th' damn mailbox was full. I've been trying t' call him for more than a week. But I don't think anythin' happened t' him. I'm his contact in case of emergency. They would've called me," he said, his voice a little softer than before. "An' he hates phones. There were always phases where he didn't answer th' phone."

After a short moment of hesitancy, Merle looked around for a pen, finding one on the other side of the table, and then he turned the letter over and wrote. "That's his number, his place, an' th' shop where he works," he finally said after he'd finished jotting the information down and returned the letter to her. "Maybe you'll be luckier than me an' be able to contact him. But don't screw it up," he warned.

"Thank you," she whispered, reverently holding the letter tightly against her heart. "I won't. A small smile finally reached her lips, a spark of hope bursting to life within her soul.

"So, I guess my job here is done," Merle said and stood up, slowly heading into the hallway.

However, when he stood at the door he just couldn't help but ask her something. "Where did ya learn that? That thing with th' arms?"

"Self-defense course ... my husband was abusive. I know the words _useless_ and _worthless_ all too well. Maybe that's why … I think Daryl and I have the same insecurities," she quietly admitted with a sad smile.

Merle snorted. At first glance, this woman and his brother had nothing in common, but on closer inspection, he couldn't deny there was something about the silver-haired lady who appeared like she was actually capable of loving a Dixon.

Carol reached for the prepared envelope, but he shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. "It's alright, take care!" he said with a small grin and left.

OOO

He stood there in a mild state of shock, his entire body trembling, his knees threatening to buckle. He didn't know what to think or feel, what to believe. She wouldn't do that, would she? Daryl was now wishing he'd have thrown the damn phone out the window earlier. It would've spared him the extra pain. He would rather not have known because this would surely kill him.

Daryl had needed to call Glenn, feeling he could no longer hide from that obligation. For over a week, he'd avoided reading his messages or accepting his phone calls, but ultimately his sense of responsibility had been stronger. He'd owed his boss an explanation for his behavior at the very least. The phone had been beeping for what had felt like hours after being turned on, but Daryl had ignored all missed call and message notifications, just wanting to make that one call.

 _"_ _You've lost all your clients," Glenn said reproachfully. Daryl rolled his eyes, the news not coming as a big surprise._

 _"_ _I'm out anyway," he replied. He should've hung up that very moment, hung up before Glenn could drop the bomb which shattered his whole world._

 _"_ _Fortunately, I was able to convey Mrs. Peletier to your brother after she'd been asking for you for days, but Mrs. Monroe didn't even call. We lost this client completely, Dixon!" Glenn told him angrily, but Daryl had lost the train of the conversation after Glenn's mention of Carol. No, no, he couldn't believe that._

 _"_ _What?" he asked, his voice a trembling whisper. Glenn's heated statement had pulled the ground from beneath Daryl's feet. How could she? It just wasn't possible, was it?_

 _"_ _I don't know what happened at your last meeting with Mrs. Monroe, but we completely lost her, unfortunately."_ _Glenn added._

 _Daryl threw the cell phone out the open window to the street below, not bothering to watch it smash to bits before he found himself going from room to room. His apartment seemed foreign instead of familiar, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, blood pounding in his ears as it rushed through every fiber of his being. He staggered into the bathroom, his gaze catching on his reflection in the beveled glass hanging above the sink, and it was the last straw. With a roar, he planted his fist in the center of the mirror, shards of glass flying in every direction._

Daryl stared down at his bloody fist, an unceasing flow of desperate tears still running mercilessly over his cheeks. He couldn't breathe.

He never could have hated her or blamed her for not feeling the same. It wasn't Carol's fault she couldn't love him, but the thought of her wanting a new escort and had chosen _Merle_ was the final nail in the coffin. Daryl never would've expected that. This was not the Carol he had known. He'd been nothing more than a tool to her. She'd used his patience and sensitivity to her needs to open her up, to ready her for sex with others. But why had she even asked for him if - according to the letter - she hadn't wanted to see him any longer? For Daryl, nothing made sense anymore.

He couldn't even ask Deanna for advice any longer because she didn't want to see him either. He wondered why. Could he have really been so wrong about both women? Carol would never open up so quickly to another man, not after the battle of her insecurities they'd fought together, would she? Thoughts like these would eventually drive him crazy.

In addition to all the disappointment and jealousy, Daryl was suddenly overcome with fear that Merle might not treat her well enough … that he would scare her. As horrible as it was to imagine another man touching her, the idea of it being _Merle_ caused his stomach to roil with upset.

Between Carol and Merle and Daryl's complete desperation, the thought of Deanna suddenly crossed his mind again. Had she decided talking and eating together wasn't enough anymore? Would she just kick him off without at least saying goodbye? She was the only person he'd ever been able to talk to, and maybe that was what he needed right now.

It had been a long time since Daryl had felt so lonely. Although he'd never liked interacting with other people, he just wasn't able to help himself at the moment and could do nothing to relieve the pain. He needed answers and Deanna had always been able to shine new perspective on his troubles.

OOO

He knew something was off. The strange feeling in Daryl's stomach as he parked in front of Deanna's house was getting worse. Something was wrong, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here, but something inside Daryl made him feel restless and uncomfortable. She'd told him she'd enjoyed their last meeting and had said goodbye as always with a hug and kiss to his cheek. He would've noticed if she'd been angry, right?

Getting off his bike, Daryl looked down at the makeshift bandage on his busted hand. She would ask him a lot of questions about it, certainly, and he would feel the need to explain. Then he could unburden himself and pray she would be able to help him find the answers he sought so desperately.

The light was on in the house, and Daryl hesitated briefly before he rang the bell, shaking his head. This was probably a stupid idea, showing up unannounced. _I'm jus' here visitin' my friend,_ he tried to convince himself, realizing Deanna hadn't really been a client in quite a while. He jerked to attention when he heard the quick heavy footsteps approaching the door, so unlike her usual soft tread. When the door opened, and a young man stood before him, Daryl's mind went blank.

"Oh, uhm … there must be some kinda misunderstandin'. I'm sorry," Daryl stammered as he ducked his head and turned, his pulse speeding up as he made his way back to his bike.

"Wait!" the stranger hollered.

"Naw, I ... I was at the wrong door," Daryl murmured, still shocked when he moved away, back to his bike.

"Did you know my mother?" the man asked.

"What?" Daryl stopped and turned around. _What had he said?_

"Did you know my mother?" the stranger repeated.

Daryl was completely confused. _Did? Jus' what th' hell did he mean by that?_

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **Thank you for reading! :)**

 **I hope I haven't donated too much confusion. More about this in the next chapter and yes, our two babies will meet soon! ;)**

 **Thanks a lot again to CharlotteAshmore! As always, you've done a brilliant job! *kisses***


	39. Chapter 39 - Seek and You Shall Find

"Your name is Daryl, right?"

"What th' hell is goin' on?" Daryl asked, his brows knitted in confusion. How did this stranger - who seemed to be Deanna's son - know his name?

The young man took Daryl's reaction as a yes and opened the door wider as an invitation to enter the house. "Come in … please," he spoke, his voice calm but determined.

Watching the stranger - still a bit bewildered - Daryl moved up the steps and through the door, hesitating only briefly. The whole situation felt awkward, but the man knew his name and had clearly invited him in. He felt ill at ease crossing such boundaries and delving into a client's private life, but Daryl had so many questions just begging to be answered.

"I'm Spencer … Spencer Monroe, Deanna's son," the young man introduced himself, holding out his hand in greeting.

"Daryl … Daryl Dixon," he replied quietly, shaking the man's hand. Daryl felt completely out of place, standing there in the foyer with his client's son, just waiting for the man to begin asking uncomfortable questions he had no clue as to how to answer. But Daryl also knew Spencer was probably as confused by the whole situation as he was. Did Spencer know who Daryl was? Who he'd been to Deanna? Had she told her son about her relationship with Daryl? "How do ya know my name? What … what about Deanna?" he asked simply, without thinking. Of course, Daryl remembered what the guy had said - _Did you know my mother -_ but still he couldn't begin to imagine what had happened to her.

Spencer didn't answer, leaving a confused Daryl standing there in the foyer as he walked into the living room. Daryl remained where he was - his booted feet glued to the parquet floor - behaving as if he'd never been there before.

"She left several prepared parcels for some of her friends, and this is the last one," Deanna's son said as he came back into the foyer holding a moderately sized package in his hands, Daryl's name scrawled across the front of it. "She probably signed some of her books and enclosed a letter as she did for the others." Spencer's voice was muffled as he handed the parcel to Daryl, his face grief-stricken.

Wordlessly taking the package, Daryl felt sadness seize him. Whatever had happened, Deanna wasn't there anymore. Instead of getting the hoped-for answers to his questions, he now had even more. He hadn't just come seeking advice. Daryl cared about Deanna, realizing too little too late just what a friend she'd become.

"How did you know her?" The young man suddenly broke the silence as Daryl stared silently at the package. His mother had never told him about a man named Daryl, which had made Spencer rather irritated when she'd mentioned him in her letter and even prepared a package for him. He was even more irritated when he'd seen Daryl for the first time. This man hadn't fit into his mother's little circle of friends at all, nor could he imagine this man had been her new partner, but he would never question his mother. Even if he didn't know Daryl, he'd been important to his mother and only that mattered for Spencer. It had been her wish to leave him something, for whatever reason.

Biting back a grimace, Daryl kept his face blank at the expected - yet uncomfortable - question. Taking another deep breath, he cleared his throat, stricken by the situation. He hadn't expected these kinds of questions when he'd made the decision to visit his friend, though he'd known he would be confronted with them when he'd accepted the young man's offer to step through the door. "She … she was a good friend," he replied, realizing it was the truth. "What happened? Where is she?" Daryl asked again.

After a short break, the man finally began to explain, obviously overwhelmed with the whole situation and struggling to find the right words. "I was afraid she would give up after my father died. I was afraid I would lose her, too. At some point she seemed better, but ... she hardly talked to us about how hard it was to live without him. After all, she still had her writing and was a very successful author." Spencer took a deep breath. He'd thought even if his mother hadn't overcome her husband's death, she had somehow coped with it, but he had been wrong. "Overdose of insulin almost two weeks ago. I don't even know where she got it from. She didn't want to live without my father … she couldn't. I found her one day later and since then I've been here … taking care of everything. Only I came, though ... my brother isn't even in town," he admitted, his sad voice mingled with unspoken anger and disappointment.

"I'm so sorry," Daryl whispered quietly, feeling the thick lump in his throat which had arisen. He patted the now crying man hesitantly and somewhat awkwardly on the shoulder, still inexperienced with comfort and human closeness. Daryl wondered if he would ever get good at this shit.

"I don't know you, but I'm guessing my mother did like you very much. She wrote to me that you would definitely come here, she was sure about this." The man smiled a bit through his tears as he spoke to Daryl in a trembling voice.

Sensing the man probably had more questions for him, Daryl simply nodded. Spencer was no doubt glad his mother had friends up until the very end - despite her isolation - and maybe he didn't need to know more.

OOO

Saying goodbye to Deanna's son had been strange, but somehow very relieving for Daryl. He was grateful the man hadn't wanted to know too much. Sometimes it was better to keep secrets. Daryl knew what he and Deanna had been to each other and so had she. It had been a strange connection which he found he would miss terribly.

Standing in his small kitchen, Daryl reached for a knife to open the package, remembering what Deanna's son had said he thought it contained. Spencer couldn't have been more wrong. Contrary to expectations, there was only one book in it, which he removed from the package and gripped tightly. But he didn't know whether or not to trust his eyes when he saw what had been hidden underneath. Shocked, he took a step back, bumping into the kitchen counter behind him, his eyes wide with stunned disbelief.

After taking a deep breath, Daryl dared to look into the package again. It was hard to believe, but there were bundles of money in it … _many_ bundles of money. He frowned at the sight and shook his head as the word _Why?_ escaped him over and over again. He reached into the package, but instead of counting the money, he searched for a letter - an explanation - but found nothing ... nothing but money.

Pausing shortly in confusion before he looked around for the book, Daryl found it where it had landed on the floor with a thud. _There must be somethin' … some kind of message, dammit!_ And indeed, when Daryl opened it, he saw a short dedication on the first page of the book.

 _The most beautiful love stories are written by reality._

 _What about yours, Daryl?_

 _You are the author!_

 _Deanna_

Daryl snorted at this and a bittersweet grin reached his lips. _If only she'd known what all had happened in the meantime!_

Flipping through the book in despair, Daryl found no further message, but perhaps he didn't need it. She had probably thought he could give up his job - if he had enough money - and could have a fresh start with the woman he loved. Nice thought, but in the end, it just hadn't been more than that ... a nice thought.

He had to think clearly. Making himself a cup of coffee, Daryl calmed down slowly, thinking about what he should do. There was a package in his kitchen with a lot of money in it, which he maybe should count now. After all, he was still curious.

Fifty thousand dollars. In fact, fifty thousand dollars lay in bundles neatly side by side on Daryl's bed. _Holy shit!_ Never in his life had Daryl seen so much money and it terrified him.

Again and again, he read Deanna's lines in the book, stating she had so much hope for him and had just wanted to help by giving him the money, a final token of her affection and friendship. If not with Carol, he could start over with it somewhere, but doubts rose in him. Should he really keep the money? He couldn't just accept such a gift, could he? And if not, he would have to return it to Deanna's son, who would surely ask an awful lot of unpleasant questions. Daryl was stuck deep in baffling quandary.

He could use it well and Deanna had wanted to leave it to him. Of course, she hadn't known things had turned out very differently, but the money would be of great help. Of course, it didn't make him a rich man, but it was enough to start a new life. He could move out and go somewhere else - far away because this town was little more than burnt land for him - and have enough time to find a new job. Or he could travel all over the States - just him and his bike - as he'd dreamed for so long. There was so much he could do now. There was nothing left to hold him to this place - not anymore - and no financial worries if he actually kept the money.

Grasping his cup of coffee from the nightstand, he pondered briefly and decided to do another lap on his bike to clear his head. A habit Daryl had gotten used to since he'd last seen Carol.

The chilling air was a blessing to Daryl's heated body as he drove through the dark, seeking nothing, no destination in mind. Instead of ending up in Carol's district - like so many times before - it had taken him elsewhere. Daryl had been happy with her at this place. Here, he had seen her smile like never before ... the place where they had picked the Cherokee roses before visiting their loved ones' graves. The memory was fraught with pain, but it warmed his heart at the same time. If only she were here with him …

After he parked his bike, he went to the small lake, the roses in the late twilight barely recognizable. There were only the sounds of nature, and Daryl realized how much he needed the rest. He was very rarely here. The woods had used to be his second home until his father had laid a dark shadow of pain over it the day the house had burned down, and his mother had died. It hadn't only been his mother who he'd lost; he had lost two homes in one day. The woods were never again what they had been for Daryl before, never again a place of safety and retreat. But with Carol, he'd been able to enjoy this place again. Maybe he needed to relearn that and stick to the good memories.

Enjoying the silence, he sat down on the small jetty, tossing pebbles into the water from time to time. It was peaceful, and he allowed his mind to wander to Carol and Deanna, two important people he had lost. Reflecting on whether it had been a mistake to let people come so close to him, he felt only a brief stab of regret in his heart. If Daryl had kept up his walls, he wouldn't only have protected himself from the pain, but also sealed himself off from the wonderful experiences he'd shared with both women.

Looking over the calm waters, he remembered Deanna's last words for him and couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps his and Carol's story might not be over yet. All they'd shared … could it truly be over now?

He wanted to see her one last time because - after all - he still owed her something. But not today ... he had to find his courage first.

OOO

"Hello?" Carol called softly as she stepped into the office of the repair shop. "Is anyone here?" Her voice became louder, more determined, breaking through the noise of the service bay beyond until she finally caught the eye of an employee.

"How can I help you?" A thin blond man asked.

"Uhm … Daryl Dixon; he works here right? Could you tell me if he's here today?" She questioned hesitantly. She'd hoped to meet Daryl here, but only the thin guy and an elderly man could be seen in the shop.

The skinny man frowned in confusion, but then smiled slightly. "If you have a problem with your car, I could have a look."

"Not necessary, I ... uhm," Carol stammered and blushed when suddenly the older man, who had overheard the conversation, joined.

"You were asking for Daryl?"

Carol nodded, relieved. Perhaps he could tell her something without her having to explain herself. She just didn't want to admit it was her heart rather than her car in need of repair. Carol shot the elderly gentleman - who seemed much more sympathetic than his younger co-worker - a hopeful look of askance, but remained silent.

"Daryl works here, yes … but I'm afraid he called in sick today. He hasn't been feeling well lately, but I believe he'll be back soon," the graying man explained. Actually, Dale knew he shouldn't divulge too much detail about his employee, but his gut instinct whispered to him that this mysterious woman was acquainted with Daryl. He paused to wonder if she was the reason for the current emotional upheaval his best mechanic was suffering. Dale felt she wouldn't have come here without good reason. "Have you tried him at home?" he asked cautiously.

The benevolent face of the old man was hopeful and compassionate, but nevertheless; Carol lost more and more hope. She nodded, forcing her lips to smile as she mumbled, "Thanks anyway … bye," before she turned to leave.

"Wait," Dwight called after her, having remained there at the counter instead of returning to his duties. "What's your name, ma'am? Do you want to leave a message for Dixon?"

Carol shook her head and continued out the door before the stringent sting behind her lids could win the battle and leave her embarrassed before Daryl's co-workers.

Carol hurried back to her car and got in, resting her head against the steering wheel. She was overwhelmed by her feelings as she felt the first of her tears slip past her lashes. Daryl's phone number had been a dead end - as Merle had warned - and the few times she'd stopped at Daryl's apartment, he hadn't been there. Twice she'd knocked, but he hadn't opened the door. Either he hadn't been home, or he just hadn't wanted company.

Several days had passed since her meeting with Merle, and Carol hadn't gotten _anywhere_ in her quest to get in touch with Daryl. It seemed like he'd been swallowed up by a black hole! Painful doubts rose in her mind that she'd never see him again and never get the chance to talk to him, to tell him it had all been a huge misunderstanding. So much she wanted to tell him …

Even if what they'd shared was lost forever and he could never forgive her, she still wanted him to know how she felt about him. She didn't want to stop fighting for him, but would it be enough? At what point would she become nothing more than a clingy, desperate woman with no hope? Wiping away the fresh tears, she turned the key in the ignition, pulling out into traffic and heading home. She needed to think. She couldn't give up on him … there had to be _something_ she could do - without having Rick use his resources to track him down. She just had to figure out what that something was on her own.

OOO

Staring dolefully at the open bottle of wine on her coffee table, Carol frowned. The last experience she'd had with wine hadn't worked out well for her, she recalled. The past several days hadn't been at all productive for her. She hadn't been able to do any real work and had called it a day early more than once, grateful Patricia had had her back as best she could. Her new assistant was a godsend and had been hired just at the right time. At least at work, Carol had found a little relief.

She was still having trouble sleeping, having to force herself to the point of exhaustion to be able to climb onto her couch - still not able to sleep in the bed - and she'd learned quickly to avoid her reflection in the bathroom mirror. For all accounts, she was quite literally … a train wreck. In the last weeks, she felt as if she'd aged ten years.

Pouring wine into her glass, she remembered the meeting with Merle and how often she'd tried to use the information he'd given her to call Daryl, all with no result whatsoever. Just as the attempts to find him at his apartment or at work had proved fruitless. She would try again, but at some point, she'd have to give up. When she realized that, she brushed at the moisture building at the corners of her eyes and took a long sip of her wine, nearly choking when she heard the doorbell ring.

OOO

Daryl stood at her door, an envelope clasped in his sweaty hands. In this envelope, he'd put all the money he'd ever received from Carol and additionally, the refund for the fee she'd had to pay to Glenn for each appointment. Daryl had never touched a cent from one of her envelopes. It had just seemed wrong each and every time Carol had paid him. Every moment, every touch, every smile of his he had enjoyed and drank it in. Those memories would linger with him, and at least for the sake of his pride and conscience, it was important he makes it clear he'd never been her escort if - in the end - he had never earned a single penny from her.

For a brief moment, he stared longingly at the mailbox, debating whether he should cop out and leave the money there for her to find, the desire to see her mingling with fear. Only this woman was able to elicit such feelings in him. But it would be too risky to put several thousand dollars in a mailbox. Besides, the need to see her was stronger than any fear which may be lurking behind his sternum, so he hesitantly reached out with a trembling hand to ring the doorbell, his entire body on fire.

Adrenaline spiked through his veins as he waited, his breath puffing in little pants of nervous anticipation. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the intercom chirped, and he heard her voice, her words a jumble in his head. His name left his mouth with a gasp and the door opened with a humming sound. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing, driving him to her floor, and then there she stood, foreign and familiar at the same time.

Carol's trembling lips formed unspoken words and there were tears building up in her bloodshot eyes. She had dark circles beneath her eyes and looked so incredibly pale, but she had never looked more beautiful to him. Daryl hadn't really known what to expect, but certainly not this. In the worst case, she would have kicked him out or insulted him, but neither occurred. Instead, she took a tentative step towards him and wrapped her arms tightly around him, her body trembling.

Daryl responded in kind, almost by instinct his arms banding about her waist. He knew if he didn't hold her, the fragile woman in his arms would fall. And god help him … he never wanted to let go.

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **And of course, the biggest thank you goes to my beta CharlotteAshmore, who not only does a brilliant job with her edits,** **but has also taught me so much. I owe you everything, darling!**


	40. Chapter 40 - Everything

Carol's heart thundered madly in her chest, her breath coming in stuttering pants brought on from the shock still coursing through her as the sound of the doorbell's chime still reverberated in her ears. It could only be him … _Daryl._ Who else would be at her door at this time of the evening without calling to announce himself first? Her hands trembled as she reached for the intercom, forcing herself to calm enough to be understood over the speaker. "H-Hello? Wh-Who's there?"

Goosebumps erupted along her arms, the hairs raising on the nape of her neck as a squeaking, crackling sound at the other end preceded his beloved, familiar voice. "Daryl … it's Daryl, I –"

Carol pushed the release button which would open the security gate for him without allowing him to finish, eager to hear his quick steps in the stairwell. Time seemed to be suspended as he jogged up the stairs towards her, each step seeming to take an eternity. Finally, as his piercing blue eyes met hers from his face wreathed in exhaustion, she eliminated the last bit of space separating them and desperately fell into his arms. She'd nearly lost hope of ever seeing him again, and now that he was here - a solid presence she could feel and touch - it seemed almost surreal to her.

OOO

The woman he loved clung to him, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, taking a deep lungful of her scent as his walls cracked and crumbled, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes to trek their way down his cheeks. She hadn't pushed him away; instead feeding his hope and filling him with warmth which Daryl hadn't know existed before he'd met her. He'd missed her warm embrace, her familiar scent, her delicate form which seemed to fit so perfectly into every line of his body as they held one another.

Again, Daryl knew bliss, enveloped in everything which was his Carol as space and time became a beautiful blur. He allowed himself that one perfect moment before reality came crashing down upon him, the bitter taste of anger and panic rising within him, helping him to remember it was nothing more than a beautiful façade. The words she'd written in that letter flashed across his mind's eye to taunt him, but it was nothing compared to the betrayal which burned acidly in his gut in the form of Merle … _Merle!_ Those reminders were like a bucket of ice water, chasing away the small moment of bliss he'd felt seconds before.

Cold sweat peppered his skin as the sharp sting of disappointment, grief and anger made his heart ache. Daryl couldn't let her back into his soul. She'd pushed him away once, leaving him empty and bereft. He couldn't let her do it again … _never_ again.

He stiffened, pulling away, his hands curling firmly but gently around her upper arms to set her away from him, taking the first step before she had a chance to reject him. Daryl took a step back, breathing heavily as he recognized the desperate expression on her face. But she wouldn't fool him this time, not now that he was wise to her true feelings.

"Daryl, I –" she began, taking a step towards him, but Daryll cut her off, throwing up a hand defensively to ward her off.

"Ain't nobody's bitch, not even yours!" he spat angrily, his eyes dark and narrowed as his body tensed a bit more with every passing second.

Choking back a cry, Carol nevertheless saw the reason for his anger. Whatever reason which had brought him to her door, he couldn't hide the pain reflected in his eyes. It was time to talk … to set her fear aside and tell him everything. It was long overdue. "I love you," she sobbed without hesitation, the words loud and clear. Slowly and carefully, she approached him as if she were facing a wild animal. His body was coiled with tension, ready to flee, and that was the last thing she wanted. Reaching out for his cheek to wipe away his hot tears, she tried to calm him as she'd done the first time he'd lost control and gave into his fear and panic.

"Yer lyin'!" he roared, pushing her hand away before he sent a startled look over his shoulder at the unfamiliar voice rising in the stairwell.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Carol reached for his arm, latching on to pull Daryl into her apartment, his numb body following her willingly before his mind caught up and thought to protest. She closed the door behind her, leaning back against it to emit a relieved sigh.

She knew it wouldn't be that easy, mindful of the fact she couldn't stop him if he wished to leave. Which was why she was quick to plead, "Daryl, please let me explain!" But her plea fell on deaf ears as he scowled and tossed a thick envelope on the floor at her feet.

"Ya ain't gotta explain nothin' to me, Carol," Daryl snarled bitterly. "The money'll come in handy, though. Give ya all the funds ya need to keep fuckin' my brother, right?"

"Oh, my God! Daryl, NO!" Carol huffed, covering her face with her hands in horror. The mere thought of allowing another man to touch her sent a wave of nausea coiling in her stomach. She could taste bile realizing Daryl actually believed that. Either Glenn or Merle had told him about the meeting, and now the chaos was perfect. She'd never thought Daryl would find out about the meeting, much less believe Merle was her new escort.

Carol dared take a step towards him again, recognizing the ebbing of his anger as it gave way to the disappointment and pain she could read on his face like an open book. "I couldn't do that, Daryl … You should know that! How could you even think I'd allow another man to touch me?!" She raked a trembling hand through her hair when he averted his eyes, having no answer for her scathing query. "I had no choice. He was my only hope to get in touch with you. I had no phone number, and no idea where you lived or worked … Nothing!" she tried to explain.

"The letter …" he trailed off, his tone defensive. "Ya wrote ya didn't wanna see me again. Ya didn't want me." The pain in his heart made his voice sound feebler with every word. He hated to show her the doubt and fear he felt, but he had no control as he searched her face for any hint she might be lying to him. He wanted to believe her so badly.

Tentatively, she closed the remaining distance between them until there was barely an inch separating their bodies. She didn't need to touch him to feel the tension still radiating from his every pore. Carol brushed the moisture from the corner of her eye, just thankful she had this chance to tell him everything she'd been worrying about for days. "I wrote the letter because I never … I never thought you could feel anything for me, Daryl. I meant what I said. I love you, and if you can't … It wasn't enough anymore. Without your love, I just can't do it … that's what I meant," she admitted quietly.

Daryl snorted and shook his head, his eyes still narrowed. "I feel … I feel _everythin',_ damnit! _Everythin_ '!" he hissed, his voice softening at the last. There had been so many feelings he hadn't even known before he'd become so thoroughly captivated by Carol, and now his soul felt like an open wound left raw and ravaged. She'd made him vulnerable. She'd caressed his soul with her tender regard and then smashed the most fragile part of his being into a thousand jagged pieces. He'd felt it all … every little bit.

"I love you so much, and I'm sorry, Daryl … so sorry!" her weak voice fought through the lump in her throat. This time Daryl didn't protest her hand as it came to rest against his damp cheek, and Carol breathed a sigh of relief though she was doubtful he could forgive her. "You took my money every time. I didn't think you would want to be with me without it," she explained quietly.

"Ya jus' wouldn't stop payin' me. I didn't think you'd wanna see me without … goddamnit!" he cursed himself, feeling just as much to blame for their misunderstanding.

Daryl's hands settled on her hips as his head lowered, his brow coming to rest against hers as her trembling body nestled into him. "That's what we are … so damaged and insecure, full of self-doubt," she whispered, lifting her watery eyes to search his. "Please tell me it's not broken … what we had. It was … _is_ … so precious to me. I don't want to lose you."

Carol felt his hands ghost over her back, carefully holding her, allowing her to press closer once more. With every fiber of her being, she felt how he struggled with himself, and she realized to the fullest extent just how badly she'd hurt him.

"I can't go through that again, Carol. I felt so alive, felt things I never knew I could, and … ya destroyed me, damnit," Carol heard him whisper sadly, an edge of desperation in his voice as his breath ghosted over her lips.

"We both still suffer from what we've gone through in our pasts. It's so hard to trust, I know, and we've hurt one another because of it. It has to stop. We need to learn to be open and honest with each other, but if you need time and distance, I can accept that. I'll wait for you, Daryl. I'll show you the same patience you've shown me."

Carol's soft-spoken vow against his lips breathed new life into him, and he believed every word she uttered. Deep inside, Daryl knew she was right about the misunderstanding and unspoken words which had brought them to that point. It had been nearly inconceivable to him to believe she could've opened up to his brother, or any other man for that matter. The jealousy had driven him crazy, as well as the fear someone might hurt her, but he'd also trusted her not to let it happen, to stand up for herself. He'd learned to read her and found the ability to treat her the way she needed him to, a role he believed no one else could fill.

Yet, he still needed to hear her say it. "So, there was nothin' between you an' my brother?" he eventually asked, his voice unexpectedly calm and gentle, a tone with which she was more familiar.

Carol bit back a sob, reaching up to cradle his face in her warm palms as his hold tightened on her as if he'd never let her go again. She shook her head as fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. "No, never … I couldn't do that! There was no one, nor will there ever be anyone again. Only you, Daryl. My heart belongs to you, and –" she briefly paused and sought his eyes, praying her words would reach him. "Even if what we had is broken, and you decided it was over, there could never be anyone else. You're … you're everything to me."

He knew she was right, and Daryl's chin dipped in a small nod of approval, the tears in his eyes mirroring hers. They'd never thought they could become so deeply connected. What they had … it had been based on a business arrangement. How could they have known they could dare to love someone or allow themselves to be loved, especially under the circumstances in which they'd met?

Trust, love, warmth ... a whole new territory for the both of them, which they would now explore and experience together, if they dared. "No more misunderstandings," he eventually whispered, his voice trembling with the emotions running amok through him. Daryl knew he could walk away and spare himself more pain from the only person able to hurt him, but he believed she was worth the risk, and wanted more than anything to take it. "An' no secrets," he added, his gaze locking with hers as he brought their bodies even closer.

"Never again," she whispered, hesitantly brushing a kiss to his lips, softly, cautiously, as if she was still afraid to push him too far, too soon, and destroy the small bit of trust she felt building between them once more. But his mouth welcomed her, and the kiss eased both their fears - previously heavy on both their hearts and souls - making them lighter until they gave way to hope and warmth, feelings which they'd missed so much and had only been able to experience with one another, something only they could share.

His lips parted, and Daryl could feel her soft tongue searching for his. Familiar as well as new sensations flooded his body as they came in contact, meeting her halfway, just as wary and cautious as she'd been a few moments ago. Just as his soul reached out to hers - the need to savor her warm mouth and solid presence demanding - his body craved her. She was everywhere … beneath his skin, in his blood, his soul. Oh so carefully - so she wouldn't fear he was rejecting her - Daryl broke the closeness, overwhelmed with everything he'd thought never to feel again. He never wanted to stop kissing her, but it was too much, weakness assailing his body. The last several weeks had left their mark on him and deprived him of his strength, leaving him a trembling mess.

Daryl met her shy smile with one of his own as they both tried to rein in frantic emotions as well as labored breaths. Yet, he refused to loosen his grip on her, and as he took stock of his limbs, he realized she was of the same mind, her hands locked around his neck.

"Are you okay?" Carol asked, fingertips running lazily through his hair as she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. There was still so much she wanted to tell him, but words seemed unnecessary just then.

"Yeah, it's just … I never thought I'd kiss ya again, hold ya," he admitted quietly, his knees weak and trembling as he held onto her.

Her lower lip trembled as she tried to put to words what she was feeling. "And it's all so much. I feel it too."

Daryl nodded jerkily and swallowed audibly as his brow came to rest against hers again. "It's late, and … Gawd, I can't remember the last time I was this tired, but … I don't wanna go, Carol. I wanna stay … stay with ya." It was the first time since everything had fallen apart that he'd found the courage to really tell her what he wanted without reservations, trusting her once more.

At his words, Carol couldn't resist the small grin which formed on her kiss-swollen lips. "You're not going anywhere," she made clear. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Daryl kissed her again, his fingers trailing along the smooth curve of her jaw. "I'ma hold ya to that promise."

OOO

Daryl watched her put away a half-full glass of wine she'd had on the coffee table, nervously flitting between the living room and the kitchen, but he didn't ask questions, not even when he wordlessly took the bedding from the sofa and prepared to follow her down the hall to the bedroom. He could read her like a book, and realized she'd suffered just as much during their separation as he had.

"I look awful … I'm sorry," she said, anxiously raking her fingers through her short silver curls, hoping he wasn't too offended by her appearance. Grey sweatpants and a loose-fitting t-shirt had probably not been the best choice, but she had been wallowing in her misery and not expecting company that evening. The dark circles ringing the smooth flesh under her eyes … well, she'd had no choice in the matter.

A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth where he stood nearly invisible behind the huge blanket and mound of pillows in his arms. "Yer always beautiful … more so when yer happy," he said openly, testing their new way of communicating.

"I'm happy when I'm with you," she whispered shyly. "And I'm pretty sure I'll be able to sleep in my bed again now you're with me," she added.

"It's our bed now," he said naturally, assuring her with his admittance he wasn't going anywhere … at least not without her. He stepped into the hallway ahead of her, heading for the bedroom to put the bedding back where it belonged.

Reluctantly, Carol parted from him in the hallway, hurrying to the bathroom to prepare for bed. Daryl had made the bed and stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers, nestled into the center of the mattress when she returned. His arms opened for her, and she didn't hesitate to burrow into his embrace, feeling as if she'd come home.

"This has been our bed for a long time," she explained, stroking her hand over his chest as she snuggled into the crook of his neck, their legs entwined under the warm duvet. "I couldn't sleep alone in here. Couldn't really sleep on the couch either, but I tried." She sniffled a little. "I missed you so much."

"Missed ya too," Daryl sighed softly, his hands wandering aimlessly over her back, realizing she craved his touch just as much as he longed for hers. "Couldn't sleep properly either … never have, but it got worse after I thought I lost ya. Remember that night after th' weddin'? I think that was th' best I've ever slept," he confided quietly as he caressed her warm form, grinning like an idiot at the prospect of spending _every_ night with her. "Carol?" he asked after a long moment.

"Mmm," she hummed sleepily.

"Can ya still hear me?" he asked.

"Of course," she mumbled.

He willed his tongue not to stick to the roof of his mouth, to bare his soul to her. He fought against his natural instinct to hide his heart from her, finally confident in her love. He could no longer deny the inexplicable urge to tell her how he felt. Too many opportunities had already passed him by. "I love ya," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her brow.

Carol tightened her arm around him, clinging to him as warmth and happiness flowed through her entire being. "I love you too, Daryl … I love you _so_ much," she whispered against his warm skin. She felt him bury his nose against her curls before he pulled the blanket a little higher over their bodies, sleep taking her soon after.

OOO

Barely awake, Carol smiled sleepily as she felt his presence behind her. Daryl was her big spoon, lying snuggled against her back, his hand resting under her shirt on her belly. This position was familiar to her, and her grin widened though her eyes remained stubbornly closed. Through her lazy eyelids, she could feel the warmth of the risen sun peeking past the blinds. Only a brief moment was needed to realize the day of the week. It was Saturday, thank God!

Arms wrapped around her and his face buried against her nape, Daryl woke slowly. For him, Carol was the best pillow he'd ever had … especially soft and warm in the morning. Brushing his lips over the soft skin of her neck, a small grunt escaped him. Carol chuckled softly, followed by a relaxed sigh as she stretched slightly, her curves pressing deliciously against his harder lines.

Now the lower part of his body came alive, and he just couldn't help rubbing himself against her almost shamelessly, his hard length nestled in the cleft of her perfect ass.

Without thinking, she rolled her hips, reminding herself of what she'd missed since the last time they'd been together, wrapped within one another's arms. Of course, she'd thought about sex with him yesterday, but they'd been too tired and emotionally exhausted, longing to finally find rest in sleep with each other, sleep which had been denied them both during their long separation. Together, they'd finally found rest.

His hand curled over her hip, his lips beginning a wet journey to relearn her soft skin. There was no doubt she felt the same hunger he did when she pressed back against him and tilted her head to the side, granting him further access for his open-mouthed kisses.

Her breath hitched as his hand wandered over her belly again, his touch making its way over her ribs. She shivered as his thumb brushed the sensitive undersides of her breasts before his large palm stroked over both soft mounds. Feeling his touch become more intense, she rolled her hips again, her ass cradling his growing hardness. Realizing there were just too many clothes between them, a frustrated moan escaped her. She wanted to feel more of him … much more … _everything_.

As if he had read her thoughts, she felt him break away, his hands reaching for her shirt to be rid of it, her own arms rising to help rush the procedure. It seemed he was just as impatient as she was. Shortly after she was free, Carol heard the susurrus of cotton as he removed his own.

Carol moaned unabashedly as his bare skin met hers, his own soft rumble of pleasure sounding close to her ear. One hand slipped under her waist, holding her tightly while the other gently caressed her soft breasts, his fingertips teasing the sensitive peaks hardening beneath his touch.

Carol twisted her upper body to face him, eager to see the steel blue of his hungry eyes as he held her in his arms. His lips captured hers, the kiss longing and deep, no trace of doubt or hesitation. She pressed her thighs together, needing to relieve the tension building in her core, more than aware of how soaked she was as she felt his cock press even closer to her heat. She squirmed, unable to help herself as he continued to explore the sweet cavern of her mouth, wrenching her hand behind her and blindly reaching for his boxers to pull them down. Carol was impatient to finally touch his bare cock, needing to feel the warm weight in her hand while another part of her body throbbed with longing to have him fill her.

His body hummed with need, refusing to allow him to slow down when he knew she wanted him as much as he craved her. He would immediately stop … she had just to say the word, but he could smell her desire, the pheromones a sweet perfume mingling with the arousal emitting from her core.

Daryl kicked his boxers the rest of the way off and began pushing her pants and lacy boy shorts off her hips, impatiently fighting the garments to bend to his will. Daryl quickly pushed them down, hardly able to wait any longer to uncover her wonderful legs and finally be free to feel her body against his without any barriers.

Daryl's hand moved away from her waist and reached for her breasts, longing for the soft feeling and his ears eager for the little moans which escaped her with every touch. He felt her reaching for his other hand - which still rested on her hip - and he understood. Carol hooked her leg over both of his, opening herself as she took his hand and led him to where she was warm, wet and waiting while his cock rubbed against the sweet swell of her ass, already dripping and twitching in anticipation.

She lifted her hips a bit, not only to push her core against his hand, but also to bring his length within her reach. Their gasps mingled as his hard flesh came in contact with her heat, pushing his shaft against the wetness between her spread legs. Her hand stroked his cock and pushed it against her blindly and without reservation, needing friction.

For a moment, he had to fight against his baser urges, wanting to pull her beneath him flat on her back and dive deep into her, but when she began to grind herself on his member, he was lost. She wet his throbbing length with her arousal, letting his tip glide over the delicate nub which ached for his attention. Her torso half turned to him, her eyes meeting his, needing the connection, that joining of their souls which forever seemed to fulfil them. Her eyes were mere slits, her lips parted, gasping for air in an unsteady rhythm. He brought his mouth to hers, first letting his tongue and then his teeth brush lightly over her lower lip as she sought to drive him mind with her wanton movements. That was what he wanted, his Carol completely lost in the moment, a slave to his touch … much as he was a willing supplicant to his need for her.

Again, she lifted her hips slightly, positioning him at her entrance and slowly letting his tip slip into her. Her body sucked at him, slowly drawing him in past the incredibly tight ring of muscle, inch by inch. She was at his mercy, yet it was she who was in control, a long low keen of pleasure slipping past her lips as her soaked core finally wrapped tightly around his cock. He knew he wouldn't be able to stand this sweet torture for long.

Carol reached back for him, her fingers tangling in his shaggy hair, her hips pushing back as he thrust forward. He set a slow pace, fighting for control over his more carnal need. The heel of his hand pressed against her clit and her hips stuttered, her walls clenching around his turgid cock as he slid in and out of her hot silken wetness over and over again. He groaned, bringing his fingers to circle the hardened little nub, determined to make her cum before he lost himself within her.

It took her without warning, wave after wave of white hot pleasure rippling through her, belly contracting in sweet pain as her core convulsed and shuddered around his cock. Long moments of nothing but perfect bliss, shared with the man she loved, consumed her. His name spilled from her lips, answered with her own name as a deep groan emanated from low in his throat. She lost all track of time as she slowly regained her senses, and a sensation of joy enveloped her heart knowing it was her reality and not a dream which saw him there in her arms.

Completely overwhelmed, her body sank weakly against his as they fought for breath. When she met his gaze, she could feel her own cheeks warming as she watched a light blush spread over his face, a shy smile on his lips.

Teasingly, he nipped at her shoulder. "Mornin'," he murmured, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.

"Good morning ... that was ... oh, my god." Carol put a hand over her heated face.

"I think … yeah, I think I always wanna wake up like that," he admitted, his grin widening mischievously, "with ya."

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **I could finish the story at this point, sensing that my readers might lose interest after our babies have finally found each other. But I still have plot for their common future in mind and maybe it might be interesting for you to see how they deal with their new relationship and everything that awaits them. After all, they had to go through, they deserve a little more happiness, don't they? Let me know what you think about it.**


	41. Chapter 41 - A Happy Beginning

**Chapter Notes:**

 **Thank you so much for your feedback on the last chapter! :)**

 **OOO**

"You can take a shower first, if you want," she offered him with a small smile.

"Naw," Daryl shook his head. "You go on ahead, an' I'll make friends with yer coffee maker."

Carol felt the blood race through her veins with the first hint of panic, her eyes widening. Now it was she who shook her head, though she couldn't explain why she was overreacting. "But –"

"But what?" Daryl asked, his brow knitting in a frown.

After they'd both finally wriggled out of the warm blanket and seen to their morning ablutions - one after the other - now the elephant in the room reared its ugly head. What had started as a completely lapidary conversation had grown unpleasant.

Her tells were out on display clearly for him to see. The tension riding her slim shoulders, the way her teeth anxiously worried her lower lip, and the way she averted her gaze told Daryl all he needed to know. The conversation wasn't about taking a shower, not at all. "Do ya really think I'd … Carol, ya can't be serious," he told her, gently stroking her cheek as he guided her gaze back to his.

 _You're not going anywhere ... I'm not letting you out of my sight._ When she'd said that to him, she had been serious - in every way - because it hadn't been and still wasn't just the desire to be close to him, but also fear ... the fear he might leave again. He could just leave while she was in the shower, be gone when she came out, and she didn't think she could bear it. "I know, I'm being ridiculous and clingy … I … I'm sorry." Burning tears rolled down her ashen cheeks as she spoke. She knew her sorrows and fears were irrational, but she couldn't help them. "It's as if my mind knows you wouldn't do that, but –"

Giving her no chance to explain herself, he wound his arms about her and pulled her flush with his body, offering her comfort as she seemed to calm. He hoped he could put her fears to rest … just as she'd done for him the night before. He simply held her as her tears spread over his collarbone and her breath hitched with little hiccupping sobs. He was familiar with her pain, having felt it acutely as he'd faced her the previous evening. His entire being had longed for her, but the fear of another rejection had transformed the love he felt for her into a weapon aimed straight at his heart, ready to fire.

He wanted to offer her the assurance he would always be there, to feel secure in his love. Because even when he couldn't be with her in the physical sense - he still had to work for Christ's sake - he would always belong to her, always come home to her … just as she would for him. They were connected heart, body and soul. Perhaps time would heal them through a combination of positive experiences and heartfelt actions. He could only hope.

Daryl slowly released her and eventually his hand reached for hers, knowing just what he could do to make her smile for him once more. "C'mon," he whispered, jerking his head towards the bathroom.

And there it was, he thought, stifling a relieved sigh. Carol clasped his hand, twining her fingers through his, her lips turning up in the smile she reserved solely for him as she let him lead her to the bathroom.

OOO

Naked as the day he was born, Daryl stood before her and began - for the second time that morning - to undress her. She'd been amazed he hadn't even put his shirt back on earlier and removed his boxers without ceremony. She realized with no small bit of amazement how just weeks ago, he'd been adamant about holding onto his armor … much as she'd been terrified to remove hers. They'd both come so far in conquering their fears. Carol still clung to her self-doubts, but if Daryl could be brave, then so could she. She remembered the first time all the layers had been discarded, how scared she'd been of rejection and how admiringly he'd looked at her - and still did - exploring and accepting her flaws … even loving them.

"The shower is far too small," she smiled shyly as his fingertips reached for the sash of her dressing gown. Only a brief look of askance was enough to gain Carol's permission. His calloused fingertips were a welcome contrast against her skin as he pushed the robe from her shoulders to land next to his discarded boxers.

"Pfft, if we move a lil' bit closer, it'll be fine. We save space an' water, y'know?" Daryl replied with a teasing grin.

His appreciative gaze swept her beautiful form, and Daryl knew he'd never get enough of just looking at her. Before she gave in to the urge to hide herself, he placed a small kiss to the tip of her nose and claimed her lips in a brief but passionate kiss. An impish grin toyed at the corner of his mouth as he jumped into the shower and reached for her hand again.

She chuckled and joined him in the small walk-in, closing the glass door behind them. He was still Daryl, still somewhat shy and blushing, but he was so pure, honest and open-hearted … wonderful additions which Carol enjoyed and loved so much.

Steam fogged the glass and surrounded them in a heavy mist, the steady stream of water pouring over them a perfect temperature to satisfy them both. Daryl could feel her slick skin gliding against his, and it was incredibly soothing and arousing at the same time. Knowing they would spend much more time together, he nevertheless cherished every single second with her. His hands flowed over every slippery curve of her body, holding her flush against him, wanting to absorb every facet of her form … desiring to memorize everything about his Carol. His lips met hers, his tongue seeking out the sweetness of her, mapping, tasting, reveling in the softness of her mouth.

Her lips broke reluctantly from his as the need for air grew to be too much, but she was losing herself in the still sweet, salty taste of his skin. Carol's mouth trailed hotly over his jaw, pausing to nip at his ear before mapping a path down his neck to let her teeth score the taut muscle of his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she sank deeper into Daryl's embrace, unable to miss his very obvious erection as he pulled her closer. A moment ago, she'd been unsure if it was only she who felt the wild waves of mounting desire building in her lower belly, musing whether or not it was only she who couldn't get enough. Now, however, the ingrained shame over her lustful feelings gave way to excitement and the knowledge he shared her passion.

A small grunt and Daryl released his lips from her neck to look at her before looking down to where her attention had gone.

He slowly licked his lips as his heated gaze rose to meet hers once more, taking in her raised brow and the pearly sheen of her teeth where it had sunk into her lower lip. He had discovered - perhaps even awakened - this new side of her, and he enjoyed it immensely, eager to explore it a bit more. "I think we should save this for our bed, don't you?" his rough voice rasped, and she nodded with a sweet grin as she slid her hand over his slick chest.

"I'm not exactly twenty anymore," Carol replied, aware the shower was really too small for _that_ and she didn't feel she was capable of any acrobatic stunts.

"Me neither," he grinned, gently pressing his brow to hers, his nose nuzzling alongside her own.

"We should get done here then," Carol suggested, releasing him to position herself behind him in the narrow shower. She let her fingertips glide over his back and then pressed against him until she was able to reach for the shower gel.

Daryl shivered as her fingertips glided over his scars, relishing the soft touch which brought pleasure rather than pain. He was just relaxing back into her embrace when he felt the hard tips of her soft breasts press into his back. _Christ, she's killing me! But what a way t' go._ And then she surprised him again … not just her actions, but how he felt it to the core of his being. She _bathed_ him. Delicate hands spread the shower gel slowly and thoroughly all over his back, massaging, caressing … worshipping his skin with the utmost tenderness.

As if she was afraid to hurt him there, he felt how careful her touches became when she brushed over his scars. Just a moment ago, he'd only been aroused, entranced by their intimacy, yet now Carol's infinite care nearly brought him to tears. This woman triggered feelings in him he'd never known to exist. She was his drug of choice, becoming more and more addicted to her with every touch, everything which was _his_ Carol. From time to time, one of Carol's tender hands wandered over his quivering heartbeat and the soothing warmth which flooded his entire body made his knees weak and he had to lean his arms against the wall as he let his head fall back, absorbing the moment avidly.

"Are you ok?" Carol asked as she stopped for a moment, watching him nod wordlessly, hoping he was enjoying her tender ministrations.

"Jus' keep goin', yeah?" Daryl breathed softly, closing his eyes. He still wasn't familiar with the feeling of being loved, but it was something he craved. It was something he wanted to get used to - though never take it for granted - and allow himself to feel it with every fiber of his body. He wanted to make Carol feel like this as well. He wanted to give back to her what she so selflessly shared with him.

OOO

A dark sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper rumbled low in his chest as Carol sucked his cock, the heat and pressure of her mouth driving him to the brink of madness. Every contact with her soft lips and tongue made his bid for control slip further from his grasp. Daryl was close to exploding, his hands clenching the sheets tightly in a death grip as if his very life depended on it. His eyes cracked open only to see Carol's were closed, seemingly lost in what she was doing to him, enjoying the act nearly as much as he was. Daryl didn't know what he liked more, the way her actions set his body afire or the fact she really did seem to like what she was doing.

"Shit, stop! I wanna ... I need …" he stammered short of breath, but she understood and released his twitching cock from her warm mouth, finally moving her body up to straddle him as she brought her lips close to his. He couldn't help but close the distance between them, meeting her for a hot kiss. His hands sought her soft curves and the wet center of her quivering body, earning the telltale sounds and the incredible heat of her arousal spreading over his fingers. She brushed his hand away, impatient fingers reaching him, dragging the tip of his throbbing member through her wet folds to her entrance, her hips rising to take him in …

Carol's eyes blew wide, her body freezing mid-motion as the sound of the doorbell carried through the apartment. "Oh, my GOD!" she breathed, wide-eyed and threw a hand over her mouth to stifle the sounds of panic rising in her throat.

"Who? What the -" he stammered out, concerned when her face flamed with color.

"Michonne!" she fairly shrieked. "Oh, my god, I totally forgot about her!"

"Huh?"

 _No, this ain't happenin' … it's jus' some horrible dream, a nightmare … right?_ Daryl's body was having a hard time deciding whether to explode or kill the massive erection he sported, but one thing was for sure … her friend had really shitty timing!

Carol literally jumped from the bed, briefly looking around for her dressing gown - _Bathroom! Crap! -_ and tore her wardrobe open, the door banging loudly against the wall. She couldn't ever remember moving so quickly, reaching for a pair of pants and a random shirt - uncaring whether or not her clothes matched - donning them hurriedly and dashing from the bedroom.

Everything had happened so fast, Daryl hadn't even had the chance to enjoy the view of her bare form during all the stress. _Well, fuck!_

When the door finally opened for Michonne - after what had felt like an eternity - she immediately recognized the embarrassed expression on her friend's face. At first, she'd thought Carol might've overslept. Lord knows, the woman hadn't slept well since Daryl had left. But on closer inspection, she wasn't sure anymore. "We had an appointment, sweetie. It's twelve!"

"I know! I'm so sorry!"

"What the hell happened?" she asked, raising one suspicious brow. When Carol seemed to be rooted to the spot, her mouth flapping open and closed several times, she prompted, "Aren't you going to let me in?"

Carol blushed an entirely unknown shade of red as she swung the door wider. "God, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot."

Michonne's eyes blew wide. "He. Is. Here. Holy shit, he's here!" she realized, beginning to bounce on the balls of her feet with excitement, seconds away from squealing like a teenage girl.

"Shh! Yeah, Michonne, he's here," Carol confirmed, trying to stifle a giggle, reining in her own urge to act like a thirteen-year-old.

OOO

Daryl swung his legs over the side of the bed and groaned, swiping a hand over his face. His pants were there on the floor next to the bed, his shirt too. His boxers were … well, fuck it! Recognizing the excited voice of the woman filtering in from the living room as belonging to Carol's best friend - well remembered from the wedding - he dressed hastily sans boxers, and fortunately without an erection either.

Merle had once told him of a similar experience, but back then, his brother had been a teenager, and the parents of the girl he'd been with hadn't thought too kindly of a boy staying the night with their daughter. Merle had been forced to hide under the bed until the danger of being caught had passed.

Daryl's own current situation was entirely different. It wasn't as if he could hide under the bed without Carol coming to investigate, and there was no way in hell he'd ever dream of embarrassing her in front of her friend. Taking a deep breath, he calmed down and opened the door, taking a few steps into the hallway which led him to the living room. Two big brown eyes greeted him joyfully.

"You have no idea how happy I am you're here!" Michonne trilled and grabbed Daryl up into a bear hug right away.

The vivacious woman was like a tornado, but he had to grin when he glimpsed Carol's amused look over Michonne's shoulder.

"Sweetie, I'm so sorry ... I -" Carol tried to apologize to Michonne after her best friend had finally released Daryl from the hug.

"It's okay! I think Tara and I will be fine on our own. Although shopping isn't so much fun with her, but she'll certainly tell me at lunch about her new girl. She's a doctor! God, there's love everywhere! I'm so happy for you both!" she gushed, pulling Carol in for a hug in her excitement.

Carol's blue eyes searched for Daryl's when silence fell between the three of them where they stood somewhat awkwardly in the living room, but then she nodded at Michonne. "We are … we're so very happy," she whispered reverently.

"But we are _definitely_ scheduled for next week, woman, and we …" Michonne looked at Daryl. "We will see both of you in three weeks at the party."

Daryl raised his brows.

"Rick's birthday. You're also invited!" Her tone wasn't open to a refusal, and without waiting for a reaction Michonne continued speaking. "I'm leaving now and you two can resume … er … whatever it was you were doing," she grinned. She gave Carol a peck on the cheek, smiled at Daryl, and then she just disappeared through the door.

As the door slammed shut, they took a collective breath and couldn't help but snort in unison. That had been - in any case - a really weird encounter.

"That woman is crazy!" The words escaped him, and he bit his tongue the next second. _Man, you can't talk about her best friend like that!_ "Uhm, sorry."

"It's okay, really! She _is_ crazy!" Carol laughed.

"And Rick's birthday? Hell! That guy hates me!" Daryl added, his expression worried and confused.

Carol sought his closeness again and just kissed him sweetly as she tried to put him at ease. "It will be fine!"

"Ya sure?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, it will be fine! I promise."

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **Thank you for reading!:)**

 **Kisses and hugs for my lovely and brilliant beta and friend CharlotteAshmore for her great work as always! :)**


	42. Chapter 42 - Concerns and Confessions

Daryl was so easy to have around, soothing to her. So soothing Carol sometimes forgot he was there, jerking briefly when she would hear a noise in the apartment. At times she would need a moment to realize there was no threat. Carol's life experiences weren't vast or even normal. She'd lived with her sick mother - her father absent for most of her life - and worse, the darkest chapter of her life … the ticking time bomb who'd been her husband. She'd lived with Rick and Michonne during her recovery, but afterwards, there had only been the loneliness when she'd learned to live by herself. There had been no responsibility for another person on her shoulders, no fear of pain. After a time, she'd come to learn to appreciate it.

Her home was all hers, but she let Daryl in, over and over again, into the small safe world she had created for herself and it felt right. Sometimes she just wondered why he never wanted her to come to his apartment.

Daryl knew every house, every _home_ , had its own unique smell and atmosphere. He could still remember the cabin he'd shared with his parents before his mother's death, the stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke hanging heavily in the air. His own apartment smelled like the Mr. Clean he used to scrub his bathroom. But each time he entered Carol's apartment, he took a deep breath. The place flooded him with warmth and the stress of the day seemed to melt from his shoulders as the scent of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air. It was different sometimes, but no less welcome. His woman adored scented candles and would usually light one when she came home from work. The nights she would cook dinner for them, the aromas drifting from her kitchen enough to set his stomach rumbling with appreciation. But his favorite was when she would leave the windows open after a thunderstorm and the apartment would be assailed with the scents of rain, renewed earth and a hint of ozone.

Home was where his Carol was, where she would be waiting for him when he got off work. Home was where they cooked and ate together, where he cleared the table and they cleaned up side by side before sinking down into the cushions on the sofa to watch a tv show or just talk. Home was where he had his own space in her wardrobe and the flowers he brought her had a permanent place on their dining table.

 _"_ _You don't have to bring me flowers all the time," she told him with a sweet kiss to his lips._

 _"_ _But I wanna," he grinned_

 _"_ _I don't want you to do it because you think you should."_

 _"_ _Naw, I know ya like 'em."_

 _"_ _Okay," she gave up. "But please never do it to apologize, yes?"_

 _"_ _Of course not."_

 _"_ _Good." She smiled and kissed him again._

After only a few weeks a kind of routine had set in, innocuously but still sudden, and it was almost boring ... wonderfully boring. Sometimes, they grinned almost bashfully about how domestic they'd become, but regarding other activities, they weren't tame at all. And, damn … all in all, it was an incredibly wonderful combination.

Daryl's apartment, on the other hand, was simply functional. It wasn't comfortable, sporting only the most necessary furniture and appliances nor was it what he would call nice. It was four walls and a roof, somewhere to lay his head at night and store the things which mattered to him such as his crossbow, which he hadn't used in a long time. It was a place to sleep, shower and change his clothes, nothing more. And that had been fine with him.

Visitors were few and far between, mostly the pizza delivery guy or his brother, but he kept his place clean and tidy for himself and the poor souls who would be tasked with removing his dead body from the premises. Until recently, he'd been sure he would spend the rest of his life - as he'd done so far - utterly alone.

In the past few weeks, he'd hardly been in his apartment, so the place had become a cold and barren space, a place he didn't want to be even when he needed to pick up something to bring to Carol's or simply to check the mailbox.

 _"_ _Rick and Michonne's house isn't that far from yours. We could meet at your apartment and then drive from there … and after the party, we could sleep at your place. What do you think?" Carol asked him a few days before the scheduled event._

 _"_ _Uhm, sure, why not?" The words almost stuck in his throat._

 _Feeling his discomfort, she couldn't help but wonder why he was so uneasy. Not only was it practical, but she also wanted to see where he lived. She'd been there once, desperately trying to find him during their separation, but she'd never made it past the locked door. "Why have we never gone to your place?" she eventually asked._

 _"_ _Ain't as nice as yours," he admitted softly._

 _Carol smiled warmly to help set his reservations to rest. "Let me be the judge of that, ok?"_

 _"_ _A'right."_

From time to time, an aching sensation would creep into Daryl's bones. It was a feeling which should have been laid to rest with the assurance of Carol's love, but still he mused sometimes that he wasn't enough for her and a woman like Carol wouldn't want someone like him.

Her home was cozy and beautiful and his was cold and sparse. Daryl always tried to show his best side to her, and now she wanted to see his apartment. He was sure she'd be disappointed, but she'd be even more so if he denied her. Carol had let him into her world, and now it was time - and only fair - for him to let her into his. In spite of all doubt, whenever he looked at her, deep down he knew Carol wanted him just as he was, and Daryl was ready to open that door, too, for the woman he loved. He would allow her to break through his barriers and let the walls come crumbling down … once and for all.

OOO

After he'd come home from work - having insisted on calling it a day _on_ time - Daryl had showered and quickly surveyed his apartment, his scrutinizing gaze taking it all in. He'd purchased an extra toothbrush for Carol and placed it next to his, just as he'd hung a towel for her on the rack with his own. Then he'd changed the sheets, grinning, envisioning a night in _his_ bed spent wrapped in her arms. Even though he was still a bit unsure about his modest apartment, it felt good to prepare things for Carol's arrival.

Only a small bit of dust - which had accumulated in his absence - needed to be cleared away. It took a moment to realize there was nothing more to do after giving all the surfaces a good scrub. He couldn't turn a shack into a palace in a matter of hours.

Inwardly, however, Daryl was anything but prepared. Since it had been decided he and Carol would be going to Rick's birthday, he had felt uncomfortable. It wasn't just the unfamiliar situation of being with her for the first time as a _real couple_ out among her friends, but there was a topic which had been plaguing him non-stop … one he should have confided in her long ago, but just hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. _Andrea._

Most of the time, Daryl had been able to block out his anxious tension and enjoy the time with the love of his life, but in quiet moments, the issue had kept seething up inside of him and had become stronger and more frequent the closer the day had come.

Luckily this woman hadn't made it to the wedding, but what now? Could it really be the same Andrea he knew … would she be there at the party? Shortly after the wedding, Daryl had googled all the lawyers in the city with the first name Andrea. To be honest, there weren't very many, and the few he'd found had been eligible, so his chances it wasn't the same woman were pretty slim. So, if she was, Carol shouldn't meet the woman - who certainly wouldn't hide the fact she knew Daryl - unprepared. He had to talk to Carol about it, had to tell her the truth. Hell, he should've done it weeks ago, and now he had no choice.

Daryl had put it off until the last minute, and now the timing couldn't be worse. He wanted Carol to enjoy being with him at the party and then afterwards in his small apartment he'd made into a functional home ... much better than most of the places he'd had to live in so far.

He didn't know how to tell her, and he was terrified of how she would take the news. _Why did ya wait so long, Dixon? Ya fuckin' coward! You'll hurt her an' bring everyone involved into a crappy situation. Well done, asshole! Congratulations!_

OOO

It seemed the closer Rick's birthday approached, the more off Daryl's behavior became, and Carol worried slightly about her rough yet sensitive biker. Everything felt so genuine and authentic with him, but from time to time, she'd sensed how tense he could get. Nevertheless, she hadn't wanted to pressure him to talk. She and Daryl didn't talk very much, and it wasn't necessary either because they understood one another blindly and without the need for words. Carol hoped she was worrying for nothing and Daryl just needed time to get used to the idea of spending time with her friends. She'd do the same for him if he would ask.

Perhaps he was just nervous about her seeing his apartment, and she could only imagine what could have him so worried. It's not like she was going to find a dead body in the bedroom closet, she mused. He could be collecting something weird as a hobby or repairing motorcycles in his living room, or maybe his apartment was just functional, just as Daryl had already admitted. Carol knew whatever it was wouldn't be a problem for her.

Sometimes, she worried the reason for his anxiety might be Rick, but Carol had done everything in her power to convince him that her skeptical, overprotective friend had accepted Daryl as the man she chose to be with, the man she loved. After all her and Rick had gone through together, Daryl understood Rick's fears of Carol getting hurt. But knowing he wouldn't have to worry about the officer trying to shoot him hadn't calmed him a bit … quite the contrary. Her hope was that Daryl could feel Rick's acceptance at the birthday party and it would help to put him at ease. She didn't want the man she loved to feel uncomfortable.

Carol rang the doorbell, pushing her apprehension aside, and this time, the door opened to reveal his apartment about which she'd been so curious. But everything became irrelevant when she saw Daryl standing before her with a forced smile and knitted brows. The greeting hovering on the tip of her tongue - so happy to see him - was forgotten and she found herself frowning with worry. "Hey," she breathed as he led her inside. She tossed her purse onto the table next to the door and pulled Daryl into her arms. "Are you okay? Did something happen at work? Don't you feel well?"

More than once, Daryl had thought about feigning an illness to get out of going to that blasted party, but he just couldn't lie to her. _No misunderstandings and no more secrets … and certainly no lies!_ "We have to … we have to talk. I need to ask ya somethin'," he stammered, his words a broken whisper against Carol's shoulder as he held her in his arms. Or was she the one who was holding him?

Her grip tightened - unmindful of whether it was fear of losing him or the need to comfort him about whatever it was he needed to discuss with her - she sensed something was wrong. "Of course … you can tell me anything, Daryl," Carol replied, and it almost sounded like a promise. Feeling Daryl slowly pull away from her, he led her into the living room where a threadbare sofa and loveseat occupied most of the small space. She would've chuckled at the clearly fake plant set on an end table if she hadn't been so worried over what was troubling him. _What the hell would they talk about?_ she mused.

Taking in a quick glance of the living room, she noted it was small and simply furnished, clean and functional … nothing she hadn't expected from Daryl. He was a frugal person who found little need for material things, and it was reflected in his home. She didn't mind, just as she didn't mind that he preferred her place, but she would still like to spend time in his home too. It didn't matter where they were. _He_ was her home.

As they sat on the small sofa, Daryl took another deep breath, his grip on her hand fierce. He was trying to remain grounded and keep the trembling of his body at bay. No matter how Carol would react, he would tell her the truth. She deserved nothing less, and he couldn't erase the past. "Uhm … who all will be there today … at the party?"

Carol's brow knit in confusion at the awkward question. "Well … Rick, of course, and Michonne … Abe and Rosita. Oh, and Andrea will be there this time. I don't know if she's bringing a date or not. Tyreese and Karen … a few other friends too. Why?" Carol sensed by his reaction to the names, and she _knew_ something was terribly wrong.

"Harrison ... her name is Andrea Harrison, right?" he asked quietly.

 _What the hell did that mean?_ "Yes … Andrea Harrison. You know her? How do you know her?" Not knowing what to think or feel Carol just looked at him in confusion. There had to be a reason Daryl would suddenly ask about Andrea, and she could see tiny beads of sweat begin popping up along his brow. She knew immediately the reason was severe enough to send him into a near panic.

Lowering his eyes, Daryl clasped her hand a bit tighter - she was no doubt losing circulation by now, but he couldn't seem to let go - and forced the words to finally leave his mouth. He couldn't bear to look her in the eye. There wasn't enough willpower in the world to make him do it, unable to witness the rejection and disgust he was sure to see in her eyes. "She … she was a client." The instant those words passed his lips, he wished he could snatch them back, hating himself for what he'd just said. _Crap!_

Carol sucked in a sharp breath, her lips parting in surprise as her mind seemed to grind to a shuddering halt. _He had ... he had slept with one of her friends. Andrea had been a client!_

The silence which had fallen between them dragged on for what felt like an eternity, forcing him to glance up at her. She wasn't looking at him though, but rather focused on the doorway leading into the kitchen as she tried to process what he'd just told her. _How could one tiny sentence ruin everything they'd built with one another?_ "Carol, it was before I knew ya, and I … shit, I'm so sorry," he choked out, his dark eyes pleading her to understand.

Carol knew he'd slept with other women … though it wasn't a topic she liked to think about. She'd always tried to suppress the thought, the mental image of him with another woman too painful for her to bear. Granted, it had been his job and of course, he had a private past, neither of which she could blame him for having. She knew he'd given up his job, but she'd never dared ask him if there had been other women while they'd been apart.

"It's kind of … weird to know that," she finally said, returning her gaze to his. "It was your job, but, yes … it's weird because I know her. I'm not mad at you, Daryl. That would be wrong," she added, taking a deep cleansing breath to try to calm her pounding heart. She refused to admit her jealousy to him. But it wasn't just that. She also felt the old familiar pain of inadequacy. Carol simply couldn't avoid comparing herself with her attractive friend, and again, the self-doubt rose within her.

"It meant nothin', nothin' at all ... ya know that, right?" Daryl assured her, his desperate eyes begging for forgiveness.

"I told you, it's okay … you have a past. You slept with other women and had fun. There's nothing wrong with that. Be glad you had no bad experiences with it," Carol explained, mustering a small smile as she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It just feels weird because I know her, Daryl. She's my friend."

Daryl snorted. "Wasn't fun. Hell!"

"Daryl, it's okay!" She tried to put him at ease.

"Ain't okay! Toldja it wasn't fun."

Carol's eyes narrowed speculatively. There was something about his tone and the pain so prevalent in his eyes. "Daryl?" I don't understand what you mean." Knowing he always enjoyed sex with her, it wasn't unreasonable to believe he enjoyed sex in general. Otherwise, he wouldn't have worked as an escort, would he?

"Do ya want me to explain? Do ya really want that, Carol? So, then you'll also think I'm a fuckin' freak?" Bitterness laced his every word, but he exuded calm control over his rampaging emotions, his head dipped towards his chest as if he was ashamed.

"Daryl, you can tell me _anything_ and I would never think that! _Never!"_ Carol promised, gently tracing soothing circles over his rigid back. Whatever he wanted to tell her seemed to be difficult for him.

"Ya sure?" he murmured, his brows raised in askance. He could only hope she would understand it … understand _him._ He had never spoken to anyone about it before, what he saw as his own impediment.

After seeing her nod, Daryl tried to sort out his thoughts, wishing he was better with words. He just didn't know where to begin. "That whole thing … th' sex … hell, that was never my thing. Only now it is … with you."

Carol's gaze was riddled with questions without replying, her expression urging him to continue. Sometimes, Daryl was an enigma to her. He'd never had a relationship, he'd told her once, and Carol often sensed he felt overwhelmed by what he was feeling for her. But she'd never really been able to put the puzzle together … until now. When they'd shared things about themselves, Carol had never pushed him, and she knew it was better that way, wanting him to open up to her at his own pace.

"It was never my thing, y'know … fuckin' around with women," he continued hesitantly. "When I was twelve or thirteen, Merle started giving me magazines, but they never interested me, an' later …" Daryl struggled for the right words, swallowing thickly as they tried to lodge in his throat. "I eventually lived with him, an' … he said I had to become a real man, so he gave me a hooker for my birthday. I was nineteen." His chin dipped lower against his chest, his face flaming with mortification. "I had a panic attack an' threw her out." As he talked, his words became almost inaudible where Carol had to struggle to hear them. "I didn't want her to touch me," he whispered shamefully.

"But how could you … I mean ... your job?" Carol asked gently, but she could sense - despite his pause - he wanted to explain more.

"He did it again an' ... I asked her to leave me alone but still tell him that somethin' had happened." He took another deep breath and then looked directly at Carol. "At some point I wanted it to work 'cause I thought I would be normal then. There were more hookers an' girls in bars Merle dragged me into, an' at some point I realized that if I'm focused enough an' block out what's happening ... I don't know how, but eventually it worked." Sex had been a constant topic between him and Merle, and everyone around him seemed to be making a big deal about it. Daryl had never understood why, but being different had marginalized him. Not wanting anyone to notice he was different - and perhaps to also fool himself into believing it - Daryl had tried to be someone else.

"But … god, Daryl, why would you take such a job if you didn't want to be touched, if you didn't want to be physical with anyone? It just doesn't make sense." All this sounded horrible and brought back an ugly reminder of her own dreadful past experiences. Daryl had _forced_ himself, probably because he'd thought he had to … all to be normal. Her heart clenched to think of how he must have suffered.

"Maybe ya weren't th' only one who was lookin' for somethin'," he murmured, seeking Carol's gaze as if to beg her to understand him. "I thought I could get used to it an' learn to enjoy it somehow." He scoffed, shaking his head. "Spinnin' my own wheels was what I was doin'. I got better at letting my body do all the work. I can't really remember a lot of it … 'cause it was like I wasn't there. I disassociated myself and suddenly …" he eventually continued. "And then I met you, Carol. I met ya that night at the hotel an' ya scared the shit out of me."

A sad smile suddenly formed on Daryl's trembling lips, and Carol couldn't help but mirror him. She cupped his cheek, offering comfort and understanding. As unbelievable as this story sounded, and as terrible as it must've been … they had found each other.

"There were a few women. I'm sure there are some guys out there who never had a job like mine, an' still had more women than I had. I just wanted to explain that … for me, ya were the first, the first an' only, Carol. Ya were the first woman I ever really wanted, an' ya always will be."

Moving closer to him on the sofa, Carol snuggled against him, her hands reaching for him, inviting him to lean his head against her chest as she spoke. "I hope you told me because you trust me … because you know I will always understand you, and not to convince me of how much you love me because you don't have to do that."

"I wish I'd never done this job an' met ya under different circumstances," Daryl whispered as he absorbed her comforting closeness and warmth.

"Stop!" Carol interjected. "We got to know each other that way, and it was the best thing that could've happened to me. We don't have any regrets, Daryl … neither of us." She created the minutest of spaces between them, so she could search his eyes, making sure he listened to her closely. "And being different is nothing to be ashamed of. You should never have let others convince you something is wrong with you the way you are."

"I love ya," he whispered and nodded briefly before kissing her, knowing Carol would always understand him. With her at his side, he felt right. "We … we have to go, damnit ... I almost forgot!" he suddenly remembered, releasing her lips.

"And I love you! Daryl, we don't have to go. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. If you don't want to, it's ok … really!" Carol said convincingly, because she wanted to spare him - and maybe herself - the uncomfortable situation.

"It's a'right," Daryl made clear. "It will be a'right. We can't hide forever, y'know."

"That's true. Are you really ready?" Carol asked doubtfully.

"Yeah, 'cause yer with me," he replied and kissed her again.

OOO

So far, there had been nothing which could affect Merle's blood pressure, but somehow the nervousness in him rose. What the hell had he gotten himself into? "Sugar, do ya really think that's a good idea? I jus' dunno."

"Relax and drive," Andrea grinned at him from the passenger side. "My friends are great. I'm sure you will like them," she assured him. "Just don't always look so grumpy and everything will be fine!"

"If ya think so," Merle breathed and started the engine to drive to a party full of strangers.

 **OOO**

 **Chapter End Notes:**

 **Seems like Rick's birthday is going to be very strange with many weird situations. Are you in? :)**

 **Thank you for reading!**


	43. Chapter 43 - The Hole in the Ground

p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"strongI thought I owe you a completed story here, so I'm gonna post until it is! :)/strong/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px; text-align: center;"OOO/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""At first, I thought about giving him a beard trimmer … you know, a nice one with all the attachments, but I had little hope he'd actually use it, so I got concert tickets instead for this rockabilly band he likes. He'll be thrilled, but I feel so sorry for Michonne, who will feel obligated to accompany him. Rick has very strange taste in music. He's always listening to it at ear-splitting volumes in the car, and it drives her nuts!" Carol said after they'd gotten out of the cab and began walking up to the house. She could sense Daryl's unease as much as her own, and yet she'd just managed to elicit a small grin from him. /p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""I hope I never have to ride with him," Daryl replied with a half-smile, trying to reassure Carol - and himself - with a little small-talk. He wanted to provide a distraction from the elephant in the room, which had ruthlessly followed them from his apartment to the house belonging to Carol's closest friends./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Everything will be fine," she assured him once again as they arrived at the door. Smoothing her delicate hand over his cheek, Carol kissed him gently, her lips lingering on his for a bit longer than necessary. Her azure eyes sought his for permission, awaiting his nod before she rang the bell. /p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Swinging the door open, Rick greeted them with a huge smile, hugging Carol warmly. "There you are! Everyone else is already here."/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Yes, we're late … sorry!" Carol grinned apologetically./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""As long as you two are here, I'm happy!"/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"After Carol had congratulated Rick on his birthday, Daryl stretched out his hand to him and shyly mumbled his best wishes, but the man took him by surprise by pulling him into a crushing friendly hug, reminding him of the hug Michonne had given him once. Note to self: Carol's friends are huggers! Get used to it!/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"The bearded man seemed unexpectedly friendly to Daryl - especially after his behavior at the wedding - and led them through the house to the garden out back. It wasn't surprising the man - whose face was nearly completely obscured by the beard he sported - would hold a barbeque on his birthday. The thought of the caveman staring into the fire had Daryl suppressing a grin of wry amusement. He would have chuckled aloud, no doubt, had the situation with Andrea not been imminent./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Rick crowed happily with excitement as he perused the envelope Carol handed to him and the concert tickets within. "Yes! This will be a great evening out with Michonne. We always wanted to see this band again. Thank you!"/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"As they drew closer to the sound of revelry in the garden, Carol tried to maintain eye contact with Daryl, hoping to lend him a bit of calm reassurance despite her own misgivings. She wanted him to know - no matter what - they were in this together./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Stepping off the path and into the beautifully landscaped garden, Daryl let his gaze sweep over the scene of happy party-goers enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and cool night air. Since Rick only celebrated his birthday with his closest friends, the number of guests was small, and it didn't take him long to spot the blonde he'd mentally prepared himself to see again. His eyes bugged when he noticed her date for the evening, however; his dark stormy eyes opening and closing several times in disbelief, making him wonder if perhaps he was hallucinating. /p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Rick prattled on, filling them in on events which had happened since last he'd seen them, but the couple didn't seem to hear a word of anything he said. They seemed to stop walking there on the path, their wide-eyed gazes locking in stunned disbelief./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Do you see what I see? Carol's big blue eyes seemed to ask him, and Daryl dropped his gaze once more to the blonde woman and her companion, before looking back at Carol in utter shock. Despite the really weird situation - or perhaps because of it - his woman just couldn't resist the amused little snort which escaped her. /p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""What's wrong?" Rick, of course, had noticed the strange behavior of the two./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Holy Shit! Baby brother!" Merle roared when he saw Daryl and the familiar woman by his side, immediately making his way over to them./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Looks like a small family reunion," Carol explained to Rick with a chuckle. If the situation weren't completely absurd, it would almost be hilarious./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Daryl - rigid as a pillar - was hugged by his brother, while Andrea looked as if someone had papered her face with white woodchip./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Hey Andrea," Carol tried to greet her friend as normally as possible, pulling her into an awkward hug./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Hi." Andrea stared at Carol as if she was about to throw her stilettos in the bushes to escape as quickly as possible./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Hell, I didn't expect we'd meet here," Merle grinned at his brother. He actually seemed to be the most relaxed with the situation. Perhaps, it was because he had the greatest insight out of everyone involved. He knew what his brother and Carol were to one another, as well as Daryl's past with Andrea. And Merle knew what he and Andrea were … uhm somewhat./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Yeah, um ... I didn't expect it either," Daryl whispered, blushing to the tips of his ears after his brother released him./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""An' you, lady," he addressed Carol. "Nice to see ya both together," Merle smiled kindly./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Carol couldn't help but return his smile, thinking his rough mannerisms quite adorable. "Nice to see you too, Merle," she replied, greeting him with a handshake. Merle dipped his head and gave Carol an innocent peck on the cheek as if she was already family./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""You know each other?" Both Rick and Andrea sputtered at the same time./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Yes, uhm ... long story," Carol tried to keep the topic short./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""The new boyfriends of two of my friends are brothers. Well, if that's not a funny coincidence. Nice surprise!" Rick laughed before looking at Andrea; reading the horror in her eyes, his face became serious. "Andrea, are you ok?" Rick asked worriedly./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Yeah, I'm fine," she answered quietly after she'd finally started to breathe again./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"A brief moment of strange silence settled on the five of them. It seemed as though no one knew how to deal with the situation until Michonne interrupted the unpleasant lull with a cry of joy./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""You're finally here!" she exclaimed as she walked towards the small crowd. She hugged her best friend and then Daryl as if she'd known him forever. After finally releasing him, she too felt the strange tension in the air. She had heard Daryl and Andrea's new friend were brothers. She also knew Carol had met him once to ask him about Daryl's contact information, but it didn't explain why Andrea was as pale as a corpse. "Carol, you have to come with me into the kitchen and save my potato salad!" Michonne begged desperately, wanting nothing more than to get her alone and grill her for answers./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Of course, I am, sweetie!" Carol returned warmly. "I'm just going to greet the other guests and then we'll administer first aid to the spuds."/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;" align="center"OOO/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"After the guests had split into small groups and delved into small talk, Daryl was finally able to grab a minute alone with his brother. Carol was in the house with her closest brined, preparing salads in the kitchen, while Rick - the birthday boy - battled the grill. Andrea had already sat down at the table with Karen and Rosita - wine glass in hand - and seemed to be trying to make herself invisible./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Merle and Daryl stood on the terrace overlooking the garden, watching the spectacle from above, mentally congratulating themselves for such a primo spot out of harm's way./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Were ya kind to her?" Daryl wanted to know from his brother. Although Carol had told him about the meeting with Merle, he still couldn't resist asking him about it. At first, he'd wanted to beat Merle - who had come entirely too close to Carol - into mashed potatoes, but then he'd remembered Carol slamming Merle Dixon into the kitchen table - which he still thought hilarious as fuck - and he let it go. And actually, he couldn't blame Merle because, just like his brother, Daryl had also come too close to her at their first meeting and played his escort role, not knowing how to handle her./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Of course, I was! Ya know me!" Merle replied with a sly grin./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Daryl glared at his brother. "That's why I'm askin'!"/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Merle snorted, enjoying the game he played with his younger sibling./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""So, you an' Andrea?" Daryl asked curiously./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Merle laughed. "I would've told ya that long ago, but yer harder to contact than th' damn pope. I can be grateful ya even gave me yer new number, but yer still not answerin' my calls an' messages anyway."/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Was busy," Daryl replied apologetically. It almost sounded like Merle was disappointed. They'd always been close, even though they'd never talked much. The knowledge the other brother was doing well had always been important to both. They were blood and the only family they both still had./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Busy with yer hot silver fox, huh?" Merle asked and then smiled indulgently before sipping on his beer. "Ya caught yerself a hell of a woman there, lil' brother. Seems like the two of ya have worked things out, right?"/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Merle ... don't talk about her like that, ok?" Typical Merle! Daryl thought as he kindly admonished his brother./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Can't help it, sorry ... that's me. But I think she's good for ya." Merle patted Daryl on the shoulder. "I've never seen ya like that before. I'm happy for ya, lil' brother."/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""An' what about you? What's goin' on with ya an' Andrea?" Daryl asked again./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"At a loss, Merle shook his head, trying to come up with an explanation for Daryl … one he hadn't really been able to answer for himself as of yet. "I haven't the foggiest. She must've noticed I enjoy it just a bit too much with her. Forgot to take th' money th' other day an' now she thinks it's no longer necessary to pay me."/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""But ya still work for Glenn?" Daryl couldn't resist his curiosity. He couldn't remember if - outside the job - Merle had ever slept more than once with the same woman./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""I didn't take new appointments for a while," Merle admitted quietly./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Daryl's eyes widened, and he nearly choked on his beer. "Who are ya, an' what've ya done with Merle Dixon? Don't ya need th' money anymore?"/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""I know it's hard to believe," Merle grinned. "But … unlike you, I've done a bit of a job in the business for quite a while now. An' th' money … y'know, at some point, ya have everythin' ya need or want … so I've saved a bit."/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""You?" As long as Daryl had known his big brother, Merle had never been able to handle money at all. It had always seemed to burn a hole in his pocket, spending it as quickly as he earned it. But Daryl had to admit he'd had many clients and appointments. His brother had a decent apartment, an expensive car, and had fortunately stopped his drug use some time ago. It wasn't so far-fetched Merle had saved some money./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Yeah, me! Ya wouldn't have thought that, huh?" Merle grinned proudly./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""So, ya have enough time to look for another job. Ya don't have to do that anymore," Daryl tried to persuade him to quit his job. He felt it was time for Merle to change something in his life. Although Daryl had never liked Andrea very much, maybe she was the chance for a better future for his brother. If Daryl could be happy, maybe Merle could be, too. Perhaps the future of a Dixon wasn't predetermined, as he and his brother had never said, but always thought. It hadn't been a topic either of them had ever discussed. They'd accepted their fate in silence./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Well, th' money won't last forever," Merle admitted and seemed to be at a loss for his future ... with Andrea and with his job./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Talk to Andrea! An' th' job ... what about Axel? He still has his construction company, right? You've worked there before. That's honest work," Daryl suggested./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Hey, being an escort is also an honest job! I earned my money an' I don't do stupid shit anymore, y'know!" Merle defended himself./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Pfft! For me it felt like I was lyin' to myself all th' time," Daryl replied thoughtfully as he let his eyes wander over the guests and took another sip of his beer./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Looking closely at his brother, Merle knew exactly what Daryl meant and swallowed hard before he spoke again. "Yeah, I know ... an' maybe I did that too."/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;" align="center"OOO/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Your potato salad looks like mine," Carol said, brow furrowing as she grabbed a spoon from the kitchen drawer to dip into the cookout staple. "And it tastes like mine, Michonne." She eyed her friend with a confused smile as the younger woman began to giggle./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""That was the goal." Michonne raised her head in pride and her arm in victory./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""You copied my potato salad? Will you at least give me credit?" Carol asked with mock seriousness./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Your potato salad is the best and I will give you all the praise you deserve for giving me the recipe, darling!" Michonne grabbed the tablespoon from Carol and tasted the salad again, receiving an irritated look from her friend./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Are you already this hungry?" Carol asked, chuckling./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""You could say that." Michonne let the big spoon disappear into her mouth and moaned before she finally asked. "So, what the hell was going on out there? Is that really the guy you met with? Somehow, I imagined Daryl's brother differently." Michonne couldn't wait to ask about what was going on. There was nothing wrong with the potato salad, but she'd lured Carol into the kitchen, sensing she had to be alone with her friend to ask her about what had happened outside./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Yes, that's him. Awkward guy, but I think he's okay," Carol answered, knowing Michonne, of course, wanted to know more./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""I mean, it's funny, he's with Andrea now, but what was wrong with her? She was quite relaxed earlier."/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""I think she was … or is still shocked, because …" Carol stuttered./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""What?"/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Because of Daryl." Carol swallowed hard and tried to find the right words on the kitchen floor as she let her gaze wander there./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Why?" Michonne became impatient./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Holding into the kitchen counter, Carol took a deep breath. "She was one of Daryl's clients and then she was Merle's client, and well ... now she's probably not even Merle's client anymore, judging from how cozy they were when Daryl and I arrived." Trying to explain the matter as gently as possible to her best friend, Carol struggled with words./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""WHAT THE HELL? OH, MY FUCKING GAWD!" Michonne yelled as she threw both of her hands over her loud mouth, her eyes as big as dinner plates./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Shh! Michonne! Not so loud!" Carol tried to hush her, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the object of their discussion didn't come barging into the kitchen to investigate the ruckus./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Daryl had sex with ... Oh, my god! That's horrible!" Michonne gave free reign to her thoughts and feelings, albeit a little quieter than before./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""It was before Daryl and I met, and it meant nothing. It was his job," Carol explained. Yes, the situation outside in the garden was strange, but rather because of Merle. For Andrea, she felt more compassion than jealousy because the woman didn't seem to be coping well with the matter./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""I didn't mean it that way ... gawd! Well ... it's horrible for both of you, and for Andrea. I mean, it's past and it's just coincidence you and Andrea know each other."/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Carol nodded. "I know, he loves me … but it's so awkward to know what happened between them. Daryl told me about her before we came here. He waited so long because he was afraid. I mentioned her name and her job at the wedding and he was asking about her last name because he sensed it was her. Now that I know, I've been thinking about whether it wouldn't have been better if I had never learned the truth. I don't know if I can ever deal normally with her again ... or she with me."/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""This is going to be a very strange dinner," Michonne noted, taking her best friend into a comforting embrace./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Of course, it will. Come on, let's take all this stuff outside and try to behave as if everything is normal." Carol released her friend and grabbed the biggest bowl to take it outside … Let the games begin./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;" align="center"OOO/p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"It was still warm outside, but not too warm, and the beautiful garden - now bathed in the warm light of countless lanterns - provided a cozy atmosphere. Almost everything was perfect for a nice evening with friends ... almost everything./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"The table wasn't big ... not big enough and so it was inevitable that Merle and Andrea weren't far away from where Carol and Daryl sat. Everyone had already found a seat when Carol and Michonne had finally finished loading the table with the salads and bread, so there had been no other choice but to take the seats across from where Merle and Andrea sat./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Rick was as happy as a man on the grill could be, serving his guests with perfect steaks until he sat down himself and proudly celebrated his own work./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""What's up? Isn't it good? Do you want another one?" Rick still eyed Andrea worriedly. She had been poking around in her food the whole time without looking around./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""No, it's … it's great, I'm just not very hungry," she answered quietly ... which wasn't at all like the usually vivacious blonde./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Merle did his best to cheer up the woman at his side and try not to annoy her, knowing why she was so tense. With gentle touches on her shoulder and reassuring smiles, he tried to calm her down. Daryl was pretty surprised how loving he was with her./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Now Rick also eyed Carol and Daryl, who seemed to be concentrating on themselves, while Tyreese and Karen talked about their last vacation. "Hey, what about you two?" Rick's attentive gaze swung to Carol and Daryl. "Have you already planned a vacation?" Rick wanted to pull the other end of the table into the conversation. Because where the two strained couples sat it was unnervingly quiet, apart from the clink of cutlery on the plates./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"The addressed couple looked at each other and smiled. In fact, they'd never talked about a vacation together./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""So far, nothing is planned, but you've probably just planted a seed for us both. I think it's a great idea," Carol eventually answered. There was still the money which Daryl had returned to her. Although it was Carol's, of course, she had thought they could spend it together and a trip would be a great way to do so./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""I have to check when I can take a vacation. We've got a lot of work to do in th' shop right now, but of course ... I'd like to go on a vacation with ya," Daryl admitted shyly as he looked at the woman he loved./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Everyone else at the table smiled benignly at them before Andrea - who apparently didn't know anything about Daryl's job change - nearly choked on her third glass of wine./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;"Merle slapped her gently on the back as he blushed, and Carol and Daryl exchanged confused looks before glaring at the other couple. If only a hole would open and devour the four completely ... better two holes, one for each couple./p  
p style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.48px;""Okay," Rick, who was increasingly irritated by the situation, tried to lighten the mood at the table with a change of topic. "Michonne and I, so we ... well … we have something to tell you," he smiled./p 


	44. Chapter 44 - What the Hell is Going on?

Shortly after Carol had met Rick and Michonne, it hadn't taken her long to notice a certain tension between her new friends. It hadn't been about problems in their relationship, but more about an unfulfilled longing they shared … the desire for children. Mindful of the fact Carol had lost her daughter, Michonne and Rick had tried to keep the subject from her. However, the more stable she'd become with the rebuilding of her life, the closer she'd grown to Michonne. As they'd spent more and more time together in their new friendship, Carol had been able to pick up on what had bothered her.

Sometime before Rick had met Michonne, his then-wife, Lori, had thrown him out despite the fact they'd just welcomed their second child. Her reason had been she just hadn't loved him anymore.

When Rick had found his happiness with Michonne, they'd tried to begin a family of their own without success. A visit to the doctor had determined Rick almost unable to conceive … and not only recently. Their physician had put him through a battery of tests and had discovered Rick hadn't been able to help his partner conceive due to a work-related accident on the force … one which had happened a whopping eight years ago.

Rick had inevitably confronted his ex-wife about it, and Lori had finally been honest with him, admitting to an affair which had produced their little girl. Not only did he lose the child he believed to be his daughter, but also his best friend. Shane, who'd been sleeping with Rick's wife for years was Judith's father, and although Rick was still allowed to see his son, Carl, on a regular basis and spend time with him, he no longer had a right to see Judith after the truth had been revealed. It didn't matter to either Lori or Shane he loved that little girl as if she was his own.

Even after years of being separated, Lori was grudging when it came time to allow Rick to spend time with his son. He was convinced she had planned their family vacation to Disneyworld the same weekend as Rick's birthday just so Carl couldn't attend. He doubted things would get better, but he would continue to try for his son's sake.

These experiences had fostered Rick's fears of having a baby with Michonne because he knew he couldn't bear to lose another child. But he trusted her with his life, his heart and after years of fertility treatments, it was time. Although Rick hadn't said it, Carol knew immediately that it had finally happened. She was almost a little peeved with Michonne because her friend hadn't told her about it earlier. Remembering a greedy Michonne shortly before in the kitchen - hoovering potato salad as if she hadn't eaten for days - Carol couldn't help but smile and feel happy for them.

Rick took a deep breath and then huffed a laugh, still in a state of awe over the words about to leave his mouth. "All of you … my friends … y'all know I don't like big parties. I like to keep it small and cozy, having my closest friends gathered around to celebrate with me. Part of that is because it is with you select few with whom I can discuss very personal matters. This matter is extremely personal, and those of you who know us well, know it's been coming for a long time."

Michonne rested her hand atop her husband's on the table and smiled, though she wasn't at all sure if these were the right circumstances to announce something like this. However, they'd planned to tell everyone the news today and of course, a change of topic would be a blessing to dispel the tense atmosphere which had fallen across the table.

Searching out her best friend's gaze, she saw Carol's beaming smile and took the words right out of Rick's mouth. "We're pregnant … uhm, I mean," Michonne giggled at her own choice of words. "We're going to have a baby. We're going to be parents," she finally said, catching Rick's gaze before she leaned over to share her happiness with him … and a kiss.

"Oh, my God! I'm so happy for you!" Carol sighed. "How far along are you?"

"Only a few weeks. It's still very early, but we've never gotten this far. We were hesitant to tell you, but we need your support. Maybe we just need people to know for it to become real for us," Rick explained, letting his eyes wander from his guests back to his wife.

"I can't believe you didn't say anything sooner!" Carol admonished lightly. She wasn't only surprised by the news, but moreso over the fact Michonne had been able to keep this secret from her.

"That was the plan," Rick admitted with a big grin.

"And it wasn't like we had many opportunities to talk about it," Michonne winked.

The mood over the table brightened exponentially, even though Andrea was still waiting for a hole to open up and swallow her. But at least, her forced smile was an attempt to crawl out of her box of shame.

When she looked over at Daryl, she noticed the amused smile teasing the corner of his lips. He seemed visibly happy about the news, and it was the first time Carol had seen him relax since they'd arrived. Yet there was something else in his expression which she wasn't quite able to interpret. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, sure," he assured her. "Your friends are gonna have a baby."

"Yes, they will," Carol smiled, still wondering about the look on Daryl's face, which said a lot and nothing at the same time.

OOO

As Carol set about to help Michonne clear the table, she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder and winced. She was tense from the awkwardness of the evening, and still uncomfortable with sudden touches after the years she'd spent with Ed despite her recovery.

"Hey … can we have a word?" It was Rick's calm voice she heard as she turned. Of course, he'd sensed the same tension which had overtaken the table and found it more than a little strange.

"Sure. Just let me bring these into the kitchen first, okay?" she replied with a tight smile. She knew her friend would end up grilling more than steaks before the night was over.

"Come on into Michonne's office when you're done, yeah?" he nodded, finishing off the last dregs of beer in the bottle he held.

Michonne and Andrea were already there in the kitchen, putting away leftovers into tupperware containers, when Carol and Daryl came in and set the dishes on the countertop. So far, the blonde had avoided any interaction with them and wouldn't dare look at her friend and the man who'd once been her escort. Michonne, however, gave the two of them a worried smile, unaware her husband wanted to have a talk about whatever it was making Andrea so tense. Her best friend had previously given her a brief explanation of the confused entanglements of the Dixon brothers and their women, but Michonne really didn't know how to handle the situation.

Even after the pair had moved off down the hall, Andrea remained quiet and Michonne couldn't bear it another second. "I know, Andrea, so stop looking at everyone as if you've lost a lawsuit against Daryl." Michonne said, turning fully to face her friend. She tossed the dishcloth on the countertop and crossed her arms over her chest as she waited for Andrea to finally come out of her shell of self-made loathing. "Andrea! Look at me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Andrea evaded, but she knew there was no chance of avoiding the topic when she saw the steady look on Michonne's face. After a beat, Andrea's features crumpled, all hope at pretense vanishing. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. How did you know, 'Chonne?" Andrea wailed mournfully.

"You should have told me, Andrea … _you._ Why didn't you tell me you were meeting with an escort? Why were you meeting him, to begin with?" Michonne asked, glad all the other guests were still out in the garden and weren't privy to the soap opera playing out in the house.

Swallowing audibly, Andrea rolled her eyes, knowing these sort of questions were inevitable. "After Shane … I wanted something free of obligations and you know how time-poor I am. I just needed something simple without having to account to anyone. And … and I didn't tell you because I was embarrassed." Rick wasn't the only one who'd been cheated. Lori and Shane's affair had also left a mark on Andrea, who'd also been cheated for years. For a long time, she hadn't been able to trust a man.

Acknowledging Andrea had had her reasons, Michonne nodded hesitantly with a smile of approval. Actually, there was no one to blame for this situation. "And what about Daryl's brother? No obligations, huh?" Michonne asked curiously, her lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"That's ... well, I have no idea. It's easy with him. One day he forgot to take the money and then I just didn't pay him anymore. We exchanged phone numbers and ... well, that's how it is now," Andrea smiled sheepishly. "Does Carol know what Daryl is? I can hardly imagine he'd tell her _that …_ but how is it _you_ know?"

"What his job _was!_ That's how they got to know each other. They fell in love and he gave up the job. She knows everything," Michonne made clear, upset about the way Andrea had flippantly talked about Daryl.

Eyes wide, Andrea threw a hand over her mouth in shock. She couldn't believe they'd met like that. "Carol _deliberately_ met with an escort? I mean … _our_ Carol?"

"She had her reasons!" Michonne replied defensively.

Years ago, Andrea had wanted to represent Carol in her divorce … the divorce which had never happened. Knowing the past of this woman, who had become such a dear friend to her, it just didn't suit her to hire a man for sex. The sensitive woman she knew and loved simply didn't fit the uncommunicative weirdo who had never seemed to enjoy his job, unlike his older brother. Yet, this same man was now Carol's boyfriend. Andrea had turned to Merle because Daryl had always appeared distracted and dispassionate. She couldn't believe Carol had found happiness with Daryl Dixon.

OOO

Taking slow, measured steps towards Michonne's office, Carol realized Daryl's footsteps behind her hadn't faded. She shouldn't have doubted he would be there for her.

"Ya ain't thinkin' I'd let ya go in there alone, are ya?" Daryl asked quietly as Carol's worried gaze found his.

"Rick wanted to talk to _me,_ " she explained. Of course, Daryl had heard Rick's request for a conversation and there was no way in hell Daryl would let her go through this alone. Knowing any attempts to change his mind were useless, Carol took another deep breath and opened the door where Rick was already waiting for her.

"Great, the both of you … even better," Rick snarked dryly, forcing a smile to banish the drawn expression on his face as he watched Daryl close the door behind him. He wasn't angry, just terribly irritated.

"Rick, uhm … well, it's hard to explain …" Carol began, but she really didn't know where to start as she nervously ran her fingers through her curls.

"How about the beginning?" he suggested, emphasizing every single word of his question. His voice was calm but insistent. "What the hell is going on here? Why is Andrea acting like her damn dog just died? I know something is going on!"

Daryl, who otherwise found all the answers to any questions in Carol's eyes, got only a questioning look back in response. It seemed like neither he nor she was able to answer Rick's question.

"M-Merle is my brother," Daryl began. He would explain all this. After all, he was the one who felt responsible for all the chaos.

Rick nodded. "I know that … everyone does by now. It doesn't explain –"

"Daryl and I … we weren't a real couple yet at the wedding," Carol interrupted. "We already had feelings for each other, but … but I paid him to accompany me." She wanted her and Daryl to go through this together, not have him explain everything by himself. It wasn't fair to him.

"I was an escort … like my brother." Daryl's voice trembled, and his mouth felt dry as the Sahara. "And Andrea was my client before she became Merle's," he continued, a breath of relief escaping him as everything came to light. _Good lord, that was embarrassing. Enough with all th' fuckin' confessions today!_

Rick's jaw dropped somewhere on the floor where Daryl had averted his gaze after his confession. When Daryl dared look up again, the confused look on the man's face wandered between him and Carol, but she took Daryl's hand in hers and gave him a small smile. _Woman, I'm really doin' my best here!_ his look told her.

Before any of them could say another thing, the door flew opened and they winced at the sudden impact. Michonne hurried into the room, closed the door behind her and crossed her arms over her chest. "This is _not_ an interrogation, Rick!" she made clear. As much as she loved her husband, she still had to make sure he didn't cross a line.

"Daryl slept with Andrea!" Rick said dumbfounded.

"I know," his wife nodded and raised a brow. "It was his job!"

"You knew?! I guess I'm the only one left in the dark," he grumbled. "But … why? Why would you need a callboy, Carol?" he sputtered, his eyes wandering to his friend.

"Hey, I don't do that anymore!" Daryl interjected.

"Don't call him that! It's disrespectful!" Carol glared at Rick.

"Do you still get paid?" Rick hissed at Daryl.

"Stop!" Carol hissed, pinning him with a menacing glare. "You know what I've been through, Rick. It was my decision to choose this path to help defeat my fears. But for that, I needed someone who would never go any farther than I would allow. Daryl helped me in so many ways, giving me so much more than I'd ever expected. I'm finally able to trust, and I'm _happy_ with him."

Rick was silent, probably still processing the explanation he had just been given.

"I gave her the money back … everything. After that first meeting, I was a lousy _callboy_ for my other clients. After the second, I wasn't able to get close to another woman at all," Daryl said quietly, noting how Rick's gaze grew softer the more Daryl spoke. "I love her," he added, his gaze shifting to lock with the woman he adored. "She ain't no job … never was … she's everything t' me."

The love between the couple was palpable … tangible, even for Rick. He would've never thought Carol would be able to allow such feelings and closeness again. As a police officer, he knew her file inside and out, and as her friend he knew the things which had never made it inside that file. He loved her like a sister, and it wounded him she hadn't entrusted this matter to him. At the wedding, Rick had felt something between the two had been off. But it had probably been the unspoken feelings between the two rather than the mistrust in Daryl as he had thought. He'd been so busy doubting the other man's motives towards Carol, he hadn't been able to see their real feelings for one another. "Why didn't you tell me? I made it so hard for you at the wedding … gawd!" Rick looked at the man who now held Carol's heart. "Am I so awful you can't tell me the truth?" he asked softly.

"Yes, you are," Michonne snapped. "Sometimes. Until now you've never liked any man in Carol's life. We thought the less you knew, the better. And it was my idea, by the way, and the plan was more than successful." Michonne grinned. "They are happy and that's all that matters. Now you know the truth, darling … suck it up."

"You wouldn't have understood it." Carol explained. "And nobody knew except Michonne and later Tara. But … I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"And I'm also sorry," Rick eyed Daryl. "I haven't been very nice to you so far."

"Ain't surprised. I understand ya just wanna protect her. I want that too, y'know," Daryl admitted.

As touched as Carol was by his words, she couldn't help throwing a skeptical smile at Daryl. She no longer wanted someone to protect her because she wanted to take care of herself. After all these years, she finally could, but a little extra protection couldn't hurt … not if it made him happy.

Rick gave Daryl a benevolent nod and smiled meekly. Sure, the way the two had met had been unusual, but eventually Carol had finally found love and there was nothing Rick wanted more for his friend. "Damn it! Andrea …" Rick suddenly remembered. "What do we do with Andrea? She's feeling very uncomfortable about this and I can't even blame her." Rick said, shooting Carol a questioning glance.

"I'll talk to her alone about this, and hopefully we can both find some peace and understanding," Carol assured him. "There's no one to blame for this situation. I think we'll find a way to deal with it and move on … hopefully."

OOO

Merle and Andrea had been the first to leave the party and somehow it was a liberating feeling for Daryl, even though the two had somehow made him feel sorry. He only hoped the storm would eventually pass and the four of them could get over the past. It would just take time.

More guests left, bidding the birthday boy their congratulations once more, only a few remaining. That's how Daryl found himself in the backyard with Rick, Ty and Abe while Carol hung out in the kitchen with the other women discussing baby things.

It became increasingly more difficult to understand Rick the later it dipped into the evening. Perhaps it was the alcohol the man had consumed, his speech becoming slurred. He did tell Daryl how happy he was about the baby he and Michonne were expecting. He also apologized - more than once - for how he'd acted towards him at the wedding.

Daryl sipped at his beer, wanting more than anything to get back to his Carol, but he patiently listened to everything his new friend said. Every now and then, Rick smiled and patted Daryl's back as he mumbled something like _Good man!_ and _I trust you to take care of my little sister._

Drunkards and children always tell the truth, or a drunken mind speaks a sober mind, as the saying goes. It seemed like Rick had actually accepted him. Daryl thought the bearded man was alright, just sometimes a bit hotheaded, just like he was sometimes. Daryl had never really known how the whole friendship thing worked. For most of his life he had tried to avoid social interaction. Now he had no choice, but in some way, it wasn't as hard as he'd thought it would be. Could Rick and Daryl end up as buddies someday? Who knows?

"I know you two love each other, but can I borrow your best buddy for a while," Abe suddenly asked. "I think Tyreese over there is dying to hear the story of how you got your new grill."

"Alright!" Rick grinned and tottered over to Tyreese, who had apparently already fallen asleep in the garden chair.


	45. Chapter 45 - Uninhibited Desire

"I know you're uncomfortable with the topic, Dixon … sorry, I mentioned it at the wedding," Abe murmured apologetically. "That's why I thought we could talk alone. You never came back to the shop … I mean, if you're fine with your back now, that's great, but I just wanted you to know I have a new partner and the guy is really good at his job. He's got loads of ideas."

In the months Daryl had been with Carol, accepting the scars on his back had become easier, a physical reminder he was a survivor rather than wearing them as a tortured eulogy of his traumatic childhood. He was no longer ashamed to bare himself in front of Carol, the guilt he'd always associated with the scars no longer heavy on his soul. Still, he'd thought of a possible tattoo, a sentinel to pay homage to what he'd survived and not to _cover_ anything. "I kinda want to, but I've been so busy th' last few weeks, an' I still have no clue what sort of design I'd want," Daryl admitted.

"That's what I'm telling you, man. Maybe my new partner could come up with a design you'd like, but the most important thing is that _you_ feel comfortable … with or without the tattoo. It's not about doing this for others. That woman of yours loves you either way, but you need to find peace and accept yourself how you are. That's the most important thing," Abe explained with an understanding smile.

Abraham was right, but the man's words made Daryl's thoughts drift to Carol and _her_ scars which still seemed to cause her pain, and it bothered him that he wasn't able to help her.

 _Again, she didn't take it off, one of the thin tops with the narrow straps which she usually wore to bed. It hadn't taken long for Daryl to realize she sometimes needed it, especially when her day hadn't gone well, or when it was too bright in the bedroom. He accepted it, glad he could at least pull the thin fabric down for a bit to expose her soft breasts, but her belly would remain covered, and it saddened him she still seemed to be ashamed. He'd talked to her about it, but after she'd told him the truth, it made him even sadder to realize it wasn't him she was hiding from, but herself._

 _"Why're ya still wearing this?" he whispered after they'd both come down from their high and she was in his arms, their bodies tightly intertwined. "I wanna feel ya."_

 _"Sometimes, I feel better this way," Carol quietly confessed, a little quaver in her voice._

 _"I love ya," he hummed against her warm skin, "and for me … yer the most beautiful woman on earth. I don't want ya to hide from me. I thought ya trusted me."_

 _"I love you too," she murmured, her nose nuzzling against his chest as she breathed him in. "I do trust you, Daryl. It's just … I don't want to see them, y'know? Sometimes, it's not so bad, but other times, it is."_

 _His fingertips reached for her cheek, turning her face to bring her gaze up to meet his, unable to hide the sadness lingering in the cobalt depths. Daryl didn't know what to do or what to say, hating the helplessness he felt to the marrow of his bones._

 _Carol fidgeted, drawing nonsensical patterns on his bare chest with her blunt nails. "I was thinking about a laser treatment, but it's expensive, and it would mean I'd have to show it to a doctor, and … and there would always be something left behind. It would never be completely gone. There would still be that reminder etched into my skin, Daryl." She nestled deeper into his embrace, seeking comfort from her dark thoughts. "Not that I would ever truly be rid of the memory of what he'd done to me. In some way, he's still here … and I don't want his ghost here between us. That's why I don't want to see it."_

 _"I wanna help ya, sweetheart, but I don't know how," he whispered, leaning his brow gently against hers._

 _"No one can help me with this, but perhaps you can accept I just need to leave my top on sometimes. Can you do that?"_

 _"Of course, I can."_

"Hey, Dixon! You still with me?" Abraham chuckled, moving his hand slowly up and down in front of Daryl's eyes, bringing him back to the present.

"Yeah, I'm here … was just thinkin'," Daryl replied, startled.

"You don't have to decide now. Just think about it," Abe suggested.

"I'll come by soon," Daryl nodded. The conversation with Abraham had given him an idea. "We should go inside an' see what our women are doin'," he changed the subject.

"I'm sure they're talking about us and all our bad habits … like women do!" Abe chortled. "Are you coming inside, too?" The ginger called to Rick and Tyreese who were laughing loudly a few feet away at the table.

"Of course!" the two slurred, supporting each other as they staggered on their way.

OOO

As the four of them ambled into the kitchen, Daryl chuckled to find the women excitedly cackling like hens. Of course, the women were talking about the baby and from what he could observe, they wondered what traits Rick and Michonne's child would inherit from its parents. The mood was light, and the laughter didn't cease when the men were noticed, unlike what Daryl had expected. _Women and their gossip!_

Rosita's comment that the baby should _not_ be unfortunate enough to inherit his father's hair sent a fresh wave of laughter amongst the occupants of the kitchen, but Carol's died away as her eyes met Daryl's. Almost as if she had tunnel vision, the conversation and laughter disappeared around her until she could only see _him._ Her chuckles bled into an affectionate smile, and she reached her arm out to him, eager to draw him to her side and share his warmth.

Damn, he had missed her, and now her entire appearance - colored by the good-natured laughter of their friends - made her glow, her beauty nearly ethereal. Sometimes, he found it hard to believe how happy he was, even if he felt like the most ridiculous idiot on earth. He missed her when he was at work, and there were days when he couldn't think about anything but her. He would grin and stare into the void during his cigarette break, and Dwight would ask what was wrong with him. Yet, even the blond couldn't spoil Daryl's mood. He would just smile and shake his head at his co-worker.

Daryl had been sure Merle would have made fun of him for how hard he'd fallen for Carol, but apparently, there was a side to his older brother he'd never seen before. The way Merle had interacted with Andrea earlier had been even more surprising. Perhaps it was actually okay to behave strangely when you had feelings for someone.

Instead of questioning the minutest detail of his life, Daryl wanted to enjoy _everything_ and hell, even if he did make an idiot of himself, he'd be a happy one. So, he went to his woman - whom he'd missed so much during their short time apart - and shared a quick kiss with her before he moved to stand behind her, his arms wrapping around her slim waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. A sweet sigh escaped her, and she nestled back into his embrace, evidently enjoying the closeness as much as he did. And Daryl wasn't the only one there who was crazy in love.

The other couples had also reunited, and Carol smiled happily as she watched Rick lovingly caress Michonne's still flat belly and how Karen helped Tyreese keep his balance, both grinning unabashedly. Abraham gave Rosita a swat to her butt, and she looked a little angry at first, but then couldn't help shooting him a mischievous smile. For the first time, Carol didn't feel out of place when she observed other couples, and she turned her head to seek out Daryl's dreamy gaze. "I think we should call a cab soon. What do you think?" she whispered, drunk on happiness and wine.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," he smiled and buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. They swayed together, supporting one another despite their alcohol levels.

"You two really have to go now?" the only sober person in the room asked sadly. Michonne wasn't ready to give up on the topic of the baby.

"I think they might want to be alone for a bit, honey," Rick slurred, grinning knowingly as he looked towards the blushing couple.

"Believe me, sweetheart, we still have plenty of time to talk about the baby," Carol promised her friend, the smile on her face suddenly colored with sadness, but still full of the happiness she felt for her two friends.

OOO

Even before they'd left Rick and Michonne's, Daryl's body had begun to develop a mind of its own when he'd pressed up against Carol's heart-shaped ass. It had only gotten worse in the cab for the short ride home. How could he have responded any differently when Carol had leaned into him so seductively, her soft curves pressed warmly to his side as her hand had caressed the inside of his thigh?

They stumbled out of the cab, Carol giggling as she and Daryl tried to remain upright, struggling to find the right key when they made it to the door. He knew they'd never make it to the bedroom, the fire between them burning too brightly. The door fell closed with a sharp click, and he pressed her against the solid oak, her thighs cradling his hips as she mewled his name and wrapped her legs around his waist. She grinded her pleading core against his throbbing erection as he ravaged her mouth and the delicate curve of her jaw with his lips.

"We're drunk, Carol," Daryl gasped, his breath hot against her skin as he trailed down the ivory column of her throat.

"Right, we're both drunk," she giggled again, releasing him and letting her hand wander into his pants to reach for his ass, squeezing the muscular flesh. "I think it's okay if we take advantage of our condition, though, don't you think?"

"Oh, hell yeah," Daryl growled after a brief moment of hesitation. _Screw it!_ They were both ablaze for the other, and there was enough trust on both sides where they could be free and open with each other.

Mutual consent aside, Daryl fought with her blouse, clumsy fingers impatient to rid her of the garment. He tossed it over his shoulder to land on the table next to the door, and then he moved on to her pants, her silken skin hot above the waistband. Similarly talented in motor skills, Carol tried to open his pants too, only to have them both stumbling as they tried to remain upright. They needed more support than the door, apparently.

Unfamiliar with his apartment, Carol simply followed as he led her impatiently down the narrow hall, his hand gently tugging at hers. It wasn't until Daryl found the light switch and pushed her against the table that she realized they were in the kitchen. But she couldn't have cared less when she felt his hands roam with uncoordinated accuracy over her body.

Carol felt the table press against the back of her thighs and then beneath her as Daryl gently yet passionately hefted her onto its surface. She gasped as she felt his lips ghost across the swell of her breasts where they threatened to spill over the top of her lacey bra, his fingers struggling with her pants again, almost desperate to rid her of her clothes.

Their movements were hurried and clumsy, but still, it wasn't quick enough as she watched Daryl pull his shirt over his head and toss it to land somewhere by the stove. She caught onto his desperate need and lifted her hips, his hands finally able to pull her pants and underwear down her legs. There was a brief moment of confusion when the denim caught on her shoes, but he wasted no time of getting rid of those too.

It was too hasty and more than a little rough, but his whole body thrummed with irrepressible passion. Daryl knew he'd instantly feel if she was uncomfortable, but apart from her innate fire, he felt nothing else … no fear, no discomfort. They'd had quickies before, and by now he'd already realized how much his woman enjoyed sex with him. He could lose himself with her just as she did with him … but never had they been so completely uninhibited in their desires.

Daryl groaned, tasting her tongue on his while she gripped him between her naked thighs, her hands fighting to free his hard cock from the confines of his pants. But instead of allowing her to do so, Daryl slowly and gently pushed her upper body back to lay flat against the tabletop, reducing the pace yet increasing the tension.

Kissing down her neck and collarbones, first one hand and then the other grabbed the fabric of her bra, pulling down both cups instead of trying to undress her. There was no time and no patience, only the desire to taste the stiff peaks and feel her soft breasts.

A desperate whimper slipped past Carol's lips, and she buried her hands in the silken strands of his hair to hold him where she needed him, his hot mouth sucking and nipping so furiously at her sensitive buds only increasing the wetness between her legs. He knew exactly which buttons to push and yet he did it both consciously and unconsciously. He didn't want only to satisfy his own infinite desire to taste and feel her, his actions satisfied her as well in a perfect give and take.

Even the sound of his zipper had already done things to her, as if her body were already conditioned to the pleasure which would soon follow. Impatiently, she reached for his hard length - eager to feel it warm and ready in her hand - but he moved this part out of reach as he kissed his way down her body and she grumbled in frustration. _Stop teasing me, Dixon!_

Daryl had never been a big talker, and certainly not during sex, not even with Carol. Only every now and then would a few words escape his mouth. But the way her body quivered beneath his lips, pleading for more, and the alcohol banishing the last of their inhibitions, his tongue became as eager and demanding as his hands on her soft skin. "I know what ya want … what ya need, but I have to taste you first," he breathed against her skin as his lips brushed over her lower belly.

"I need … gawd, Daryl -" she pleaded, gasping when she felt his bold tongue on her inner lips, snaking slowly to her clit. Just that first touch on her hyperaware nerves nearly had her falling over into the abyss, but she forced herself to focus, not wanting it to end too soon. Almost roughly, he grabbed her hips, his strong hands pulling her lower body closer to him while he groaned greedily against her hot flesh.

One of her hands sought purchase on the edge of the table while the other buried itself in her curls as she - completely lost in the moment - slammed her eyes closed. She felt herself slipping towards madness as she felt how hungrily he sucked on her swollen nub. When one of his rough fingers teased her entrance, she couldn't hold back a deep moan, the wanton sound nearly startling her.

Daryl wanted everything at once, the pleading erection between his legs aching to bury itself where his lips, tongue and fingers worked her, but he couldn't stop. Her juices flooded his mouth and ran over his fingers as her scent drove him out of his mind. He let his finger slide again and again in a timeless dance of pleasure, driving her towards her peak as he prepared her velvety warmth for his waiting cock. Their union was always like a miracle, because no matter how wet and ready she was, he always had to take it slow and give her time to adjust to his size.

She was so close, her breaths already erratic and a fine sheen of sweat making her goose-pimpled skin glisten as her legs began to quiver. "Look at me … please look at me, Carol!" She heard his deep growl, the sound tearing her from the moment into a much more intense one as their eyes met. Curious and unrestrained, she straightened and propped herself up on one elbow while her other hand gently ran through his sweaty strands. For the first time, she dared to really _watch_ him, to admire him in what he did to her. Aroused and shocked at the same time, she realized how much she enjoyed the sight, his now dark eyes moving back and forth between her ocean spheres and her burning core, and she bit her lip as he carefully inserted a second finger into her and teased her clit with his tongue before sucking on it again.

Suddenly, he let go and leaned over her, sinking between her trembling thighs. Carol kissed him hungrily, tasting herself on his tongue as she wrapped her legs around him, her body begging him to bury his hardness inside her. She was more than ready for him.

Breaking the kiss, he shot her a playful grin as his hand reached for one of her nipples, rolling the stiff peak between his fingers with just the right amount of tender and rough. "Tell me what ya need an' I'll give ya everythin', Carol," he tried to tease the words from her.

"I need you … Please! I want to feel you now -" she whispered pleadingly, reaching for his swollen member.

One last time he kissed her, letting the words die on her lips before he straightened up again, unable to remember if he had ever been aroused like that. Actually, he had thought more intensification with Carol wouldn't be possible anymore, but damn ... he had been so wrong!

Her body spread out before him, her legs wide open and her breasts squeezing out of her bra while her beautiful wet folds glistened for him … it was the most captivating picture he'd ever seen. Sensing how impatient she'd become, he reached for his cock and slid the sensitive tip through her warm wet silk. He had to take it slow and get his act together.

Wet from her juices, he gradually let his length slide into her. Her tight ring of muscles gave resistance and welcomed him at the same time as she sucked him in slowly and stretched her pelvis up to him. His fingertips went back to her nipples as he moved inside her, penetrating her deeper and deeper with each thrust. It wasn't until his cock had finally disappeared inside her that a collective sigh of relief and lust escaped them, enjoying the overwhelming feeling of finally being united.

He always knew what pace was right and when he could increase it, but even though she had been on the edge shortly before, she needed more. Her walls adjusted to his shaft, fitting like a second skin when she opened up for every thrust and tightened again when his cock left her and that sweet pain she felt, every time he hit that particular spot was like an addiction.

Now Daryl was the one who enjoyed the view. Not that her wet core right in front of his eyes hadn't been the most beautiful picture, but seeing his glistening cock disappearing into her over and over again as her inner lips slid against his shaft with every movement just turned his mind off. He had to feel more, more intensity, and so he increased the pace, slamming into her like he'd never done before. It was too hard and too rough, but his woman whimpered in pleasure, meeting every thrust.

Knowing he would have come long ago had he been sober, this was the best compensation he could think of for the hangover he'd suffer the next morning. Closing his eyes, he lost himself completely and his thrusts became harder and faster as she quivered beneath him, the kitchen table moving squeakily with them.

But suddenly, he realized the alcohol influenced other areas of him. Perhaps he wasn't cognizant enough to interpret her signals properly and he'd hurt her. That would be something for which he'd never be able to forgive himself.

Carol's whole being only seemed to consist of her core. The intensity was incredible, and she already felt a mind-blowing orgasm starting its way through her entire body. But Daryl stopped and collapsed onto her as he panted. He hadn't come yet, she was sure of that.

"Are ya a'right? he asked breathlessly, his eyes wide.

"Of course ... what is it? Why did you stop?" she asked, dumbfounded _and_ frustrated.

Trying to calm down, Daryl looked deep into her eyes and ran his thumb gently over the seam of her lower lip. "We have to slow down. I don't wanna lose control, y'know."

"But I want you to," Carol replied with a small smile, touched by how gentle he always was with her.

"I don't wanna hurt ya!"

"You won't. I know you won't," she tried to put him at ease.

For a brief moment, they remained in that position, Daryl still buried deep inside her, until she gently nudged him back and he didn't know what he'd done to make her push him away. Immediately, he pulled out and took a step back. He certainly wasn't expecting what came next. She slowly moved her body off the table and turned around, stretching her beautiful backside to him like an offering.

They had already done it from behind, but it had hitherto only happened lying in bed, when he was the big and she the little spoon. He had only tentatively suggested this _other_ position once and promised to himself never to ask again when he'd learned what memories she associated with it. He could hardly believe she was the one who suggested this position _now_.

"Hell, are ya sure?" he asked as he slowly approached her again, careful not to get too close to her beautiful ass with his lower body as he rested his head on her shoulder and his hand on her hip.

She reached for his free hand and positioned it on her belly before leaning forward and slowly laying her upper body onto the tabletop. Her hand still rested over his - a well-known gesture of trust which had been proven so often before. Despite the alcohol in their bodies, they were wholeheartedly involved.

"Please, Daryl! You know I trust you ... I need you!" She turned her head to him, her eyes sparkling with certainty. She _was_ sure.

His body shuddered with arousal and his heart exploded with the love he felt for her. Was she really ridding herself of the evil spirits from her past?

Slowly he sought body contact, observing every tiny reaction. It was intimate and intense as he entered her, and he hissed, just as she did. Despite knowing this part of her body, it felt so different … so damn good. "Everythin' a'right?"

"Yes ... please, Daryl!" she assured him, overwhelmed by all the sensations she felt. At first, she felt him move slowly and carefully, but the control she had through their position soon made the two of them slide into a rapid rhythm. Her hips met his, increasing the pace - at her control - and their hands were still connected.

Damn, he loved that ass and had already been closer to it this evening in her friend's kitchen than his poor body had been able to handle. He couldn't help letting his other hand wander between her hip and ass cheek while his cock could no longer withstand the tightness which became wetter and wetter as he plunged into her again and again.

Then he felt her falling apart beneath him, her body vibrating while erotic little gasps and whimpers fell from her mouth, which he had never heard from her before, especially not with such intensity.

He almost lost his footing as he came, his legs weak, a wave of fire running through his body as he soared to heaven and back, his angel pulling him back to earth. _Holy shit!_

"Gawd," he heard her sigh beneath him, and he bent down to kiss her neck. It seemed as though they both needed a moment to come down from their high. Daryl grinned like an idiot, sure his neighbors would need a cigarette now.


	46. Chapter 46 - What A Day!

Carol woke, a smile on her lips as a groan filtered past her ears. It wasn't one of her own, but rather one of Daryl's from where he lay, his head pillowed against her breasts. He moved slightly, reluctant to release his grip on her soft curves, and she chuckled, drawing another groan from his dry lips.

"Morning … did you sleep well?" she chirped sweetly, her smile evident in her voice as she ran her fingertips gently through the hair at his temple.

"Mornin'," he grumbled. "Hell, my head is killin' me. I'll never drink again," he muttered, trying to tilt his aching head up to look at her.

Another giggle escaped her lips as she glanced pointedly at the nightstand on the other side of the bed where she'd placed a glass of water for him last night, after they'd finally made it to the bed. It hadn't been touched, and now he was suffering. "I warned you … you should have drunk it before you fell asleep," she nodded towards the glass. "But apparently, you weren't in the mood to listen."

"Crap! I shoulda had several," he whined miserably.

"Someone told me once, it's very important to drink plenty of water to avoid a hangover the next morning." Carol fought against the shit-eating grin blooming on her mouth, but she nevertheless felt sorry for Daryl. She couldn't abide seeing him in pain.

Lifting his heavy head, he finally managed to look at her and immediately felt his spirits soar, despite the nasty hangover. Daryl's head ached fiercely, but gazing at Carol through his heavy lids distracted him a little from the pain, his stiff limbs relaxing. "Yeah, shame on me … for not followin' my own rules."

Carol moved slowly, yet determinedly, to ease herself from beneath the man she loved. Climbing out of bed, the look on his weary face told her he already suffered the loss of her soft body pressed to his, but the small smile she gave him promised she wouldn't be gone for long.

A moment later, she returned with a fresh glass of water and two painkillers. Carol climbed back into bed after she'd literally had to force him into an upright position, helping to steady his shaking hands as he held the glass. "I took your good advice," she said proudly. "I'm good … and you'll feel better soon," she tried to cheer him up, her lips brushing soothingly over his brow.

With loud greedy gulps he drank all the water after he'd thrown the pills into his dry mouth and looked questioningly at the mischievously smiling woman who had already snuggled into the pillows again. "Did we have sex on my kitchen table last night?" he asked sheepishly.

Snorting into the pillow, Carol grinned, finding it hard to believe he hadn't remembered their coupling. "Uhm … maybe," she teased him with mock seriousness. "Don't you remember?" After the fireworks in the kitchen, the two of them had barely managed to stumble to bed, but Carol didn't believe Daryl had been so drunk he couldn't remember what had happened last night.

"Of course, I do! I just wanted to make sure it wasn't a crazy dream."

"Good crazy, or -" Knitting her brows, she teased him again.

"Pfft! Hell, it was fantastic ... incredible!" Daryl muttered, the words stumbling out of his mouth as he blushed.

"Your big brother would be proud of us!" Carol replied and made them both snort synchronously, remembering the little scene which had once taken place with Merle in Carol's kitchen.

"Do we have to leave the apartment today?" Daryl asked snivellingly, knowing Carol loved the puppy eyes he could make if he wanted something.

Carol shook her head and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down for a kiss. "I think today is the perfect day to take a shower, eat and be lazy on the sofa. Wanna go raid the fridge with me?"

"Hell yeah!"

OOO

It had taken her weeks and countless texts and emails until Carol had finally secured a date for coffee with Andrea. She didn't know if her friend had been too stressed or simply hadn't had the time, or if she'd just been too afraid to meet with her, but the issues between them had become more than a little awkward. They were friends - though Carol was closer to Michonne - and they'd known each other for a long time. And now, because of a set of odd and uncomfortable circumstances, Carol thought it would be immature to cut the woman from her life.

Carol shook herself as nervousness began to set in, knowing there was no escape. She had plans with Daryl, a surprise he'd planned in which the stubborn man wouldn't divulge even the tiniest hint. Daryl had taken her little red car to the shop with the excuse of an oil change, dropping her at work. Her co-worker, Patricia, had happily agreed to bring her to the café, and there Carol sat - a huge cappuccino growing cold in her mug - restlessly waiting on Andrea to make an appearance.

Andrea eventually breezed through the door, trepidation evident in her expression - much like Carol's - and accepted the warm hug from her friend. "I'm so glad you made it," Carol gushed.

"Yes, finally! I'm sorry we couldn't meet sooner," Andrea replied.

Sitting down, they both ordered a slice of cake and made an attempt at small-talk to relieve the tension between them. Work, pop-culture, and the latest news of Michonne's pregnancy filled the air, avoiding the elephant in the room which neither of them wished to willingly be the first to bring up.

Carol gained more confidence they could salvage their friendship; the banal conversation having relaxed them both. "So, how's it going with Merle?" Carol wanted to know.

Andrea's grin turned playful, her eyes sparkling with new life. "Well … it's going pretty well, to be honest," she admitted, a blush tinting her cheeks.

"That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you," Carol said with a genuine smile.

"It's so strange sometimes. He practically _lives_ in my apartment," she laughed.

"Does it bother you?" Carol asked after a small snort.

"No, not at all," Andrea shook her head.

"Daryl prefers my apartment over his, too," Carol found the courage to take the topic further.

"Do you mind?" Andrea asked after a pause.

"Of course, not. I've never been so happy. We looked at houses last week. We're hoping to find one soon, something beautiful but homey … a place which will be _our_ home."

"I … I'm happy for you, Carol," Andrea said softly, her voice lowering in register as she averted her eyes. "This whole thing … I'm so sorry, I –"

"Andrea, stop. It's okay."

"We should try to forget about it and never speak of it again." Andrea looked up again, a fake smile touching her lips."

"No, we should," Carol said with conviction. "We need to talk about it. No one has done anything wrong, so there's no need to feel guilty or ashamed about anything. I'm not angry with you, Andrea. Did you think I was?"

"You're not? I mean … it's awful! I don't want you to think about what happened every time you look at me," she fairly wailed in despair.

"I can't deny I've thought about it from time to time, and I can't avoid the mental images, but I have to remember that what Daryl and I have … what we share is completely different." Carol looked at her friend emphatically. "I don't want this to become a problem for us, Andrea. We need to get past it, so we can make new memories."

"Do you think we can do that?" Andrea asked skeptically.

"Yes! I want us to be able to talk about our men and how lucky we are without hard feelings between us. We were alone for so long, Andrea, always on the fringes at parties, usually keeping one another company while all the couples did … _couple_ things," she laughed. "Now, everything's changed, and I want us to be able to share that with each other, too."

Tears welled up in Andrea's eyes and she hesitantly put her hand on Carol's which rested on the table. "Sometimes, you have to fight so you don't lose someone, right?"

"I had to learn that too, but it's worth it," Carol smiled knowingly.

A familiar voice pulled the women from their heartfelt conversation. "Hey, you two; am I too early?" Daryl asked as he came to stand beside the table. Startled, Carol glanced down at her watch.

"No, you're not too early." She shot an apologetic look at her friend. "I'm sorry, Andrea; we've completely lost all sense of time."

"No, it's alright," Andrea assured them, turning her smile on Daryl in greeting. "Hey, Daryl. I suppose I'll let you have her," she chuckled. "I have a date myself soon." She looked at her watch and smiled. She was still a bit tense, but the conversation with Carol had brought her immeasurable relief and confidence their friendship hadn't been lost.

"Best regards to my brother," Daryl replied with a half-smile.

Andrea grinned shyly. "I'll tell him you said hi." The two women stood up and looked at one another with relieved smiles before embracing each other tightly.

"Now, get out of here! I'm gonna take care of the bill," Andrea whispered in Carol's ear.

"Alright, but next time it's on me," Carol made clear.

"Have fun, you two!" the blonde then said as the women finally released each other from the embrace.

Carol turned and waved as she and Daryl headed out the door, excited to see where he would take her that evening. As well as the day was progressing, she had no doubt wherever he took her would be perfect.

OOO

"So, are you an' Andrea okay, now?" Daryl glanced at her as he drove, still worried the women's friendship was unsalvageable … because of him.

"Yes, I think so. It will get better with time, but I think talking today was a big step. Soon, we won't even think of it." Carol shot him a look from beneath her lashes, knowing it wasn't easy for him either. "How are you doing with it?"

"I'm ok. I was more worried about you. Did she say anythin' about Merle?"

"They're together and happy, it seems." Carol smiled mischievously. "He's practically living in her apartment."

"Unbelievable!" Daryl grinned. His brother in a relationship? He never would have thought it possible. "An' yeah, I also live in yer apartment, but soon we'll have a home together," he added only slightly defensively.

"You know I want you to live with me, but –" Her thoughts were interrupted as Daryl slowed and pulled into a small parking lot. She'd been on pins and needles for days, wondering where he'd be taking her, but her lover was able to keep a secret better than anyone she'd ever known. Now, she couldn't help but look curiously out the window at the little shop on the corner.

Daryl pressed his lips together and shut off the engine before he unbuckled himself to fetch something from the back seat. Holding a folder in his trembling hand, he glanced at her nervously, a confession poised on his lips. "So … sometimes, when ya have to work overtime, I have a lot of time on my hands at home, an' … well, I drew somethin'."

"You drew something? You can draw? Show me!" Carol impatiently grabbed the folder, but she wasn't fast enough when Daryl quickly pulled it away from her grabby hands. She hadn't even known he could draw.

"Wait! I … uh …" He didn't know where to begin, and ran a hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words to explain. "I wanted to tell ya about this earlier, but I was worried ya wouldn't come with me then. I'd like for ya to give this thing a chance, but ya can always say no if it ain't somethin' you'd want to do."

With a thousand question marks in her wide eyes, Carol had no idea what he'd planned. "I don't understand ..."

"That tattoo shop …" he said nervously, pointing to the little building. "That shop belongs to Abe, an' I … uhm … I drew a design."

"For your back?" Carol smiled, a bit puzzled. Why would he think she wouldn't want to be with him when he got the tattoo? She would love to hold his hand and watch the process.

"No … not for my back." To save himself further explanation - with much stuttering and stammering - Daryl summoned up what little courage he possessed and opened the folder hesitantly before turning it over to show her the picture.

Carol muffled a sob and threw a hand up over her mouth, completely shocked. Daryl could draw … hell, how he could draw! That was the first thing she noticed and then she took a closer look, recognizing flowers and petals which reminded her of the flower which meant so much to her. The Cherokee roses were worked out to the minutest detail, showing an intricate picture on a background which looked like a sketch of her belly. Unable to say anything, she just shook her head as tears cascaded down her cheeks. She was overwhelmed by the beauty of the picture and the love he'd poured into designing this for her.

"Ya hate it ... shit, ya hate it! I'm sorry." Daryl felt like the biggest idiot in history.

Carol shook her head again, trying to pass a few words by the lump in her throat. "It's ... it's beautiful, but ..."

"Ya know I don't care about yer scars, Carol. I don't even see 'em when I look at ya, but I know how much they bother ya … y'know. An' I've been thinkin' about how to help ya for so long. I know ya don't wanna show 'em to anyone, but it's Abe. You've known him forever, an' ya know he won't judge. Will ya at least talk to him?" Daryl was relieved she seemed to like the idea, but could sense her indecisiveness about going through with it. He should've told her earlier to give her some advance warning, but he'd wanted so badly to surprise her.

"Me and a tattoo? It doesn't exactly seem like me, Daryl. I don't really think I'm the type," Carol finally sobbed after taking a deep breath. She absolutely loved the idea, but she didn't know if she had the courage to do it.

"But the scars … that ain't you either." He moved closer to her and gently pressed his brow to hers, stroking his fingertips soothingly over her cheek as he whispered, "I love ya jus' th' way ya are, but I want ya to love yerself, too. I want ya to feel good about yerself. That ain't about being th' tattoo type. It's for yerself, Carol. Ya don't have to do it, an' maybe it ain't the right design, but I thought … I jus' wanted to help."

"It's perfect, Daryl!" She slowly released him and looked at the picture again, a smile on her lips despite the tears in her eyes. "I think I'd like to think about it," she finally said, grabbing her purse because she desperately needed a handkerchief before getting out of the car.

OOO

"Well, frost my cookies and roll out the red carpet … we've got important visitors!" Abraham greeted the couple as they came through the door, his hands folded before him as if giving thanks to God. "How long have I been waiting for this moment?"

"Hey now, I made an appointment," Daryl replied, grinning sheepishly through his long strands. Abe was such a good-natured idiot sometimes.

"That didn't mean you'd actually make it here with your wonderful woman," Abe chortled, kissing Carol on the cheek before he pulled Daryl into a man hug and gave him a hearty pat on the back.

Carol's tears had long since dried, now replaced with a warm smile. Although she'd never been there before - at a place which couldn't be more alien to her - she immediately felt at home in the little shop. "I had no idea he was bringing me here," she addressed Abe, still curiously looking around. "But what he showed me a few minutes ago … well, I'm intrigued."

"Did you finally show her what you sent me by email, Dixon?" Abe asked.

"Yeah, exactly," Daryl admitted quietly.

"I love it, asshole," Abraham chuckled before turning to Carol. "But come on back, so we can sit and have a chat." He led them through the shop into a private room in the back containing two loungers and rolling tables which contained various equipment. It almost resembled a doctor's treatment room, very clean and tidy, but with various designs and framed portraits of finished works adorning the walls.

"Have a seat, you two. I always like to sit and talk with prospective clients, so I can get a feel for what they want and just how committed they are to getting the ink." Abe pointed to one of the loungers and rolled himself into a swivel chair next to it. "I told you about this new tattoo artist I hired, Dixon."

"Yeah, ya said that." Daryl didn't know what to think as he put the folder next to him on the lounger. They were here because of Carol, and Abe knew that, damnit!

Carol's gaze ping-ponged between the two, a little disappointed she had no idea who the new artist was and therefore, couldn't participate.

"So … this guy …" Abraham caught Carol's gaze and smiled. "This guy is the perfect man for the design Dixon drew. He's the only man I know who'd be able to do those roses justice. He's an expert on flowers, trees, fruit … you name it. Anything that grows. Shit, he could even make you a whole fruit salad. I've never seen anything like it before. A woman came in the other day, and I swear I wanted to take a bite out of her ass because the strawberry looked so real … and believe me, it wasn't because of the –"

"Abe, stop! Ya said you were gonna do the tattoo," Daryl fairly growled at him.

"But I'm not the best man for the job, Dixon … my new artist is."

Daryl looked down at the still-smiling woman beside him, worry heavily evident in his gaze. He knew how difficult it would be for Carol to show her belly to someone. He knew when he'd made the appointment that Abe would, of course, have to take a look, and now he wanted to pass her off to another?

"It's alright ... we'll see, okay?" Carol tried to calm Daryl as well as herself.

"I'll get him. He's probably in the kitchen … again," Abe grinned knowingly. "I promise you're gonna love him. He's a great guy."

 **OOO**

 **One more chapter to come ... let me know if you like it! :)**


	47. Chapter 47 - Possibilities

"That wasn't planned, ya have to believe me!" Daryl defended himself, worried she would blame him for all this.

"I said it was okay –" Carol whispered, but trailed off at the sound of the door opening. Abe stepped in, a man following him, his face wreathed in smiles for them. His dark beard and hair were longer, and his round belly made him look like he enjoyed spending time in the kitchen. But the most striking thing about him, Carol thought, was his kind smile.

"Hey … I'm Jerry," the man introduced himself, shaking first Carol's and then Daryl's hand. "I saw the picture, man," he said to Daryl. His smile widened as he turned to Carol. "That's good work … really good work. I think this'll be great."

"I told them about the strawberry!" Abe intervened almost hysterically.

Jerry gave his boss a stop-bragging-about-me-look and turned back to Carol, sensing her confusion. "As I said, I think this will be great, but well ... Abe told me you have scars. I know it's probably not easy for you to show them to me, but I need to see what I'll be working with, y'know?" Jerry explained as gently as possible.

"I think that's enough," Daryl fairly growled, shifting restlessly on the balls of his feet. He wanted to get Carol out of this situation - one he'd caused, no less - knowing it was a delicate matter for her. He really needed to pull himself together, so he wouldn't punch Abe for his lack of tact.

"I said it's okay!" Carol hissed at him. In fact, this Jerry appeared really likable. She didn't know why, but even after that short time, she sensed those kind eyes wouldn't look at her with contempt or disgust. And indeed - Daryl had been right - she was the one who had the biggest problems with her scars. What other people thought about her was no longer important to her. It had taken a long time, but Carol had learned she didn't need to be ashamed of what had been done to her.

"Abe, go and have a smoke with Daryl. I'm sure Jerry and I can handle this," Carol intoned, her voice brooking no objection. As long as Daryl was in the room, she knew there would be little hope for making progress. She loved the idea of the tattoo Daryl had designed for her, but right now he was more distracting than helpful, apparently more upset about the change of plans than she was.

"But Carol … I -" Daryl stammered in despair, desperately wanting to remain there with her. Why would she want to send him away?

"You don't need to protect me, Daryl. I'll be fine." Carol's decision was clear, but she made sure her voice was warm and reassuring.

"Of course, she will," Jerry nodded amiably to the grumpy man.

"Come on, Dixon! That guy is so kind … five more minutes and you'll want to buy him ice cream!" the redhead tried to persuade Daryl.

"I'll take you up on the ice cream … pistachio," Jerry shouted before the door closed behind the pair after Abe had finally managed to get the over-protective redneck out of the room.

"I'm sorry, he's like that sometimes, but he means no harm," Carol tried to apologize to the man for Daryl's behavior.

"No, he's right. I understand him. Abe didn't tell me much, but I know about the scars and how you want to get rid of them. If you don't want that anymore or if you're unsure, it's alright. No pressure, okay?"

"Okay," Carol swallowed hard. However, sensing the anticipation in his eyes to be working with her, she hoped the scars on her belly wouldn't stand in the way.

"Do you want to tell me about them first? Maybe it will be easier for you if you know I'm prepared. For me, it doesn't make any difference, but I'm sure it might be for you. This isn't the first time I've covered scars, but I know this is all new and different for you. Takes a lot of courage to want to take a chance on ink."

Carol got up and removed her jacket, but then, standing in front of the lounger and reaching for the hem of her blouse, she lost her self-confidence. "I have cuts … made with a razor blade. Someone … scratched words into my skin," she uttered softly, her voice quivering over the words.

"It's okay; tell me more," Jerry nodded in understanding, his eyes warm and compassionate.

"And he burned me with cigarettes," she added hesitantly, but the moment the words left her mouth she also felt relieved. Maybe he'd been right when he'd told her it would be easier for her, knowing he was prepared before he saw her. He'd wanted to make her believe he wouldn't be shocked, but how could she know this for sure?

Hopefully, the guy suffers the worst tortures imaginable in hell!" Jerry still looked at her sympathetically, but his warm smile turned into a narrow line, giving way to sadness and anger.

"If there's a hell, he's definitely there," she assured him, refusing to tell him more.

Jerry gave Carol a compassionate look and nodded. "Can I see them? I'm an artist, and you could be my canvas. It would be an honor to me." He laid his hand over his heart as he spoke.

Carol slowly reached for the hem of her blouse and pushed the fabric up, her lips pressed tightly together with her resolve to be brave.

Without a hint of emotion in his eyes, he inspected the pattern on her belly. There was the name of a man and nasty insults which - in addition to random cuts and burns - graffitied a terrible picture on her skin. "Your man has actually drawn the design where it covers everything," he mumbled, focusing his gaze first on her scars and then on the drawing lying next to her on the lounger.

Carol was astonished to realize how well Daryl knew her body. She'd never thought he'd inspected that part of her, treating the scars as if they weren't even there, yet in reality, he'd seemingly studied them in such detail he'd been able to memorize them.

"May I?" Jerry asked, his gaze seeking her approval before he traced each of her scars with his fingertips. "The scars aren't deep. You'd still feel them … there's nothing I can do about that, but they wouldn't be visible anymore. I can incorporate them into the pattern of the flowers and petals. I'd only have to change a few things for that. So, even if you still feel them afterwards, nobody would be able to tell what words were there. Yeah, I think that would work very well." Jerry smiled before sliding her shirt back into place. He looked at her optimistically as she noticeably relaxed.

Before Carol could reply, the door opened again, and she watched Daryl - who looked more at ease than before - and Abe step into the room.

"So? What do you think?" the redhead asked his buddy excitedly.

Jerry nodded happily. "I think it's gonna look great. I mean …" His eyes searched for approval from Carol, realizing in his excitement he hadn't received a firm 'yes' from her. "Do you want me to do the tattoo?"

"I … yes, I think so." She was still a bit unsure, but in a way she was relieved. The smile on her lips widened and Carol's gaze left Jerry to sweep over Daryl. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, sorry 'bout earlier ... I was jus' worried, y'know." Daryl admitted sheepishly as he looked at Jerry. "Sorry, man."

"It's alright," Jerry replied, brushing off the apology with a wave of his talented hand. "What about you? Abe said you were also thinking of getting a tat."

"Yeah, I am … but …" Daryl moved to stand next to his woman, needing her closeness. "I don't know what I want … cain't decide on a design."

Carol turned her shocked gaze to Daryl, her lips parting in disbelief. "That is the reason? Because you don't know what design you want?"

"Uhm, yeah … that's the reason. I just want it to fit me, y'know."

"Are you serious?" Carol asked, her eyes still wide. She shook her head with a little chuckle, amused at how clueless Daryl could be. Here he'd drawn her this wonderful design to cover her scars and he couldn't choose one of his own?

"What is it?" Daryl had no idea why Carol couldn't understand finding the right design was really hard. It wasn't like someone had made one for him … if that was even possible.

"Turn around," she ordered.

"What?"

"Turn around," she repeated, her chuckles lightening into giggles of pure joy. Of course, Daryl did as she'd instructed, turning his body without hesitation even though he couldn't figure out what his woman was up to.

"Daryl Dixon, you're an idiot," Abe groaned, covering his face with a hand as he blushed to the roots of his hair.

"Huh?" Daryl still had no idea.

"Hell, I'm no better. This isn't the first time you've worn that damn vest," Abe had to admit.

Daryl's gaze swung back to Carol, his brows raised in surprise. "My vest?"

"The wings!"

"The wings? Are ya sure?"

"Daryl, they're perfect for you," she assured him.

Jerry's face lit with delight as he anticipated the challenge, but Abe shook his head. This one would be his, one he'd been wanting to do for a long time. "I'd be happy to do it for you, of course. The wings will be dark, but they won't cover everything. We already talked about that. No matter how much shading, your scars are just too big … too deep. But that's not what this is about," Abe nodded.

Daryl sighed softly, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. "Right … that ain't what this is about. I don't need to hide anymore. I wanna show I survived," he quietly admitted. "The wings … yeah, I think I'd like that."

Damn, the more I think about it, the more I love that Idea! This is actually highly philosophical. Dixon can fly with scarred wings … not broken, just bent!" Abe's smile was now colored with seriousness. Finally, a design had been found which suited Daryl perfectly. "So ... you two? Are we gonna start next week?"

The couple shared a look, one which was both nervous and hopeful, knowing they'd go through this together.

"Yes, we'll get started next week," Carol replied. "But only if we can do this together. I don't want us in different rooms." She was still a little unsure, but deep down she knew she only had to get used to the idea of getting a tattoo. She wanted Daryl with her, needing his calm reassurance.

Abe grinned. "Whatever makes you comfortable."

OOO

As soon as they got home, Carol disappeared into the bathroom, mumbling a hasty apology before closing the door behind her. During the drive, she'd felt uncomfortable, letting Daryl stop and get dinner from their favorite Chinese restaurant while she'd waited in the car. Several times, he'd asked her if something was wrong, but she'd just shaken her head and promised she was alright.

Now, Daryl stood at the bathroom door, unsure if he should knock. He could hear the hustle and bustle of her movements on the other side of the door - a door she'd never locked before to keep him out. It left him feeling bereft and at a loss for what to do. "Are ya really okay?" he finally dared to ask. Something was very very wrong. It wasn't only her behavior which scared the hell out of Daryl, but rather her refusal to talk to him.

"Yes, I'm nearly done," he heard Carol call, her voice filled with tension, before the shower stopped and he heard footsteps move towards the door. A second later she was peeking at him through the crack. "Could you get something for me to wear from the bedroom, please?" she asked shyly, water droplets still clinging to her hair and dripping over her flushed cheeks.

Without asking anything further, Daryl headed to the bedroom, still wondering what was going on. She'd been fine earlier when they'd left Abe's shop, but once they'd gotten further away, her demeanor had changed. Assuming she needed something comfortable, he picked out clothes she usually wore at home - when she was sick, or when they just wanted to lounge on the sofa - and brought them to the bathroom. One of her delicate hands reached for them through the gap with a quick 'thank you' before the door closed again.

When Carol finally showed herself in the kitchen, Daryl shot a furtive glance her way as he spooned their dinner onto plates. "What's goin' on?" he whispered worriedly in her ear, abandoning meal prep to pull her into his arms, her back colliding gently with his chest. She laid one arm overtop of his before she popped two painkillers and reached for a glass to fill from the tap.

Slowly, she turned to him, pain and shame written all over her face. "I just … I just got my period. It's not a disaster, but it was kinda unexpected. I'd forgotten how much it hurts," she admitted, blushing as a wry smile teased at her lips. The last time she'd had one had been more than a year ago, and even before, they'd been infrequent in the last two years, her body shutting down that function. She'd thought she was well and truly done, so she'd been desperately searching for tampons earlier in the bathroom. It had been sheer luck she'd found some.

Carefully stroking her belly, Daryl smiled sympathetically, wishing he could take the pain away. "I have no idea how it feels, but i do think ya should lie down. I'll take care of everythin' here and then bring the food to the sofa, okay?"

Carol nodded, gratefully accepting his offer. "I'll go to the doctor tomorrow ... looks like we have to take care of protection now, so I'm gonna get on the pill."

"That means … ya could …" His voice trailed away, excitement coursing through him, his eyes widening. Of course, she'd once told him she couldn't get pregnant, but he'd never asked why. That this possibility might suddenly come to pass confused him, as if suddenly a door opened he hadn't even known existed, leading to something he'd never considered before - a kid ... a kid with his Carol.

"No need to worry. It's very unlikely I could get pregnant, but to make sure I won't, I'll see the doctor tomorrow and get on the pill, okay?" She stroked his cheek reassuringly and gave him a quick kiss, trying to set his mind at ease.

"No, I ... that ain't it at all. I meant ... ya could ... we could," Daryl stammered, almost unable to believe what he was saying.

Carol shook her head quickly as she caught on to what he was trying to tell her. "I'm too old, Daryl. And as I said, even without protection, it probably wouldn't happen and even if … I'm just too old. I didn't know you wanted children. Why didn't you ever tell me?" Would it have made a difference? she asked herself then. Carol knew he loved her, even before he'd known there could be a chance for a child. Was she taking something away from him he could easily have with another woman? Shaking away that thought, she remembered how special their relationship was and how well she knew him. He didn't want any other woman. It had taken her a long time to finally realize that, and she wouldn't allow herself to start doubting him all over again.

"Hell, I didn't know it myself," he snorted before turning serious again. "Me an' kids … that was never an option for me before. But with you … it's different with you. I would want that with ya."

"I'm pretty sure I can't give you that!" Now, Carol's voice trembled, and she felt guilty, guilty for probably not being able to make him a father.

"Ya ain't too old ... if it works, ya ain't, y'know." Daryl thought if she could get pregnant, it would be proof her body could still manage it.

"Daryl -" she tried to interrupt him, her voice colored with despair.

He cradled her face in his hands and pressed his brow to hers. "Ya don't get it. I love ya … not just today, not just because yer beautiful, not just until someone better comes along. It's forever, woman … with or without kids, you're it for me. But we shouldn't try to prevent it, y'know? If there's a chance ..." Again, he gently caressed her belly. "You're the only woman I'd ever want to have a kid with." Daryl wanted that option. If he could have a child with her, he wanted it … badly.

"And if not?" Now there were tears in Carol's eyes as a thousand thoughts flashed through her mind. Why hadn't she met him sooner? And even if, would she have been willing to let another child into her life after losing the only child she'd ever had … the child she hadn't been able to protect? Was she even ready for it now? Of course, she was scared of that new possibility but the thought of _maybe_ having a kid with Daryl - the only man in her life she really loved with every fibre of her body and soul - also sent a warm flutter through her aching belly. Carol sensed he would be a great father and the perfect partner by her side, no matter what.

"It's alright either way, but we love each other … we're enough, jus' you an' me. But jus' think … we could be an us plus one … a fam'ly, an' that means somethin'. Isn't that what you want too? So … we shouldn't fight it," he repeated fervently, stammering here and there over his wayward tongue.

"Okay," she took a deep breath. "Then we don't fight it," Carol replied and really meant what she said when she saw the honesty and the deep affection for her in Daryl's warm eyes. "We'll wait and see what happens."

Maybe there'd be no bad luck and missed chances, but rather possibilities … opportunities … options and nothing to lose. They had one another, a gift which kept on giving which neither of them had ever expected.

The first time they'd met, the fear had been so strong on both sides. It had taken time to grow closer - both physically and emotionally - to make it lessen. Their broken souls had reached out, gripping the tattered edges as they'd torn open old wounds. But their fears had slowly blossomed into shared hope, awakening one another to all the possibilities of a glorious future. One they would face with strength, hope and love … together.

 **OOO**

 **After posting the last few chapters I'm kinda disappointed about the lack of feedback, though people are reading. I see you, guys! LOL ;)**

 **Give me a sign if you want me to keep posting here because the lack of feedback made me stop until I've decided that I don't want to leave this story unfinished here.**


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